


Jak and Daxter: Legacy

by StarMasher



Series: Jak and Daxter: The Rebooted Trilogy [1]
Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: A lot different than the original trilogy but will still give you major deja vu vibes, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Class Issues, Fantastic Racism, Fleshed Out Worldbuilding, Friendship, Gen, Gun Violence, Humor, Implied Relationships, Reboot, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Total Jak/Daxter bromance :), character driven, jerky :D
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMasher/pseuds/StarMasher
Summary: A small act of disobedience. A spreading, merciless poison. A young man who must venture miles across treacherous lands to an even more dangerous city just to find a cure for himself and his newfound friend. This is the story of Jak and Daxter, more epic and deeper than ever before. Loosely based on Naughty Dog's scrapped reboot of the series. Typically updates Mondays or Wednesdays every week.





	1. Foreword

_**Jak and Daxter: Legacy** _

_**FOREWORD** _

DISCLAIMER:

This novel is a work of fanfiction based on the _Jak and Daxter_ series by Naughty Dog. This work is not intended to infringe upon their right to all things related to the _Jak and Daxter_ series, nor will it be used for any purposes beyond entertainment.

DEDICATION:

This novel dedicated to the hard-working team at Naughty Dog who made _Jak and Daxter_ possible. Thank you for all your late nights, coffee-fueled mornings, and hours on end drawing, writing, designing, and programming. Without your efforts, the world – and my childhood - would be missing one of the best game series ever made.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This story will not include regular author's notes at the top of each chapter. Instead, thanks to reviewers will appear at the bottom of each chapter so as to not inhibit reading flow. My general notes to readers can be found in this section and the foreword after.

FIC SPECS/TRIGGER WARNINGS:

This story is classified as a Reboot AU Epic; many of the characters and settings will remain the same as in the original series, but they and their world will be developed to fit my vision of a series reboot. Because of the nature of this fic, one doesn't need to know the story of the original _Jak and Daxter_ series, but having prior knowledge will greatly benefit your enjoyment of it. The world and plot tries to integrate the tone of the first game and the second/third more organically, while also incorporating ideas from the art from Naughty Dog's cancelled reboot. For more information on what's to come, please take the time to read the foreword.

Because of its classification as an 'epic', this story will be very, _very_ long. I've estimated it to be ~200,000 words long, or about eighty chapters. I just wanted to warn you ahead of time before you became invested, just in case epic length works aren't your thing.

**Trigger warnings include: death/dying, blood, heavy/gun related violence, drug use (mentioned), needles (non-drug related), torture, prostitution (mentioned), and slavery (mentioned).**

FOREWORD:

I know, I know, forewords suck. Forewords that are paragraphs long and ramble suck even more. But if I don't give you a heads up before reading this fic, you're going to walk away from the first chapter either scratching your head or shaking it in disgust, because true to the original source this _ain't_.

There comes a time in everyone's life when something they love meets its end. I feel that stories are some of the hardest to let go. We get so enraptured by a setting, a character, a theme, or even just a single idea that – when it finishes – we are left standing there like one might if it were possible to face the edge of the world. _"Is that it?"_ we ask ourselves. _"Why can't there be more?"_

Sometimes, we're granted more. Sometimes, we're not. In the case of _Jak and Daxter_ , we're still standing on that precipice. The studio behind _Jak and Daxter_ is radically different now, focused on telling cinematic, realistic, interactive stories that I love just as much as _J &D_. However, I would be lying if I claimed that _J &D_ wasn't a bit more special to me than _Uncharted_ or _The Last of Us_. This series was a milestone of the PS2. It was a milestone of the platformer genre. Most importantly, it was a milestone of my childhood (and many others', I'm sure), one I still revisit regularly.

There was a reboot attempt at one point. However, as we all know, Naughty Dog felt it was veering too far away from what made _J &D_… _J &D_, and so went on to create something else instead; a little title some of you just _may_ have heard of: _The Last of Us_. And man, was it a well-paying gamble, as it led to one of the most heartwrenching, complex stories in the history of video games. But, the _J &D_ 4/Reboot's art was released, I made the mistake of looking at it, and I… was insanely mad.

NOT because I thought it was hideous, but because I was immediately remorseful that it had never come to fruition. I don't know what the hell you all are smoking, but why a bunch of fans across the internet thought that art "hideous" is beyond me. Um… realistic Jak looked freaking _sweet_. The environment art looked sweet. Those aliens and robots looked sweet. Daxter was a little strange, but yeah… I could get used to Daxter rocking a Rocket Raccoon-esque look.

I get it. It wasn't cartoony like the original series. And don't get me wrong, I really dig that style, too; my childhood included many a day admiring Jak's cartoony waifu angst mug. But um… a Jak so gorgeously rendered to the point that I can count the number of hairs in his goatee, in a _Horizon: Zero Dawn_ sized setting that's a lovechild of steampunk, cyberpunk, and fantasy, in a story from the people who wrote _The Last of Us_? Would anyone seriously turn that down? I mean… what?

That's like hating chocolate ice cream just because vanilla came first. Yeah, vanilla's great, too, but… holy shit, chocolate, guys. Fucking _chocolate_. And you'd buy it, too. You'd down that sweet, sweet ambrosia with a blissful smile. You'd go on forums and complain about how it's not like the original vanilla flavor, but you'd eat that chocolate goodness up and savor it like Krew would a bacon-wrapped, butter smothered, twenty course buffet served so state fair style that even the goddamn sticks are deep fried. Don't lie.

Anyways, I digress (and probably just pissed off about 99% of the fandom; put down your pitchforks and torches, kiddies, I don't mean to offend). Onto the main point: the actual reason behind this story.

So, what do you get when you have a writer that really liked those concepts, really loved the original series, and would love a new version of the story that not only gives everything a shiny coat of paint, but tries to make the characters as deep as what a modern Naughty Dog game might offer (all while keeping many of the same setting/backstory ideas)? This story is what you get. It might not be as good as the reboot we almost got, but it's something to go on in this metaphorical desert of content.

If that already sounds gross to you, then feel free to scoot on out of here. If that sounds cool, then here's a brief summary of what's to come:

The deja-vu realistic versions of Jak and Daxter live in a world called Nadoa, where the lush, fantasy setting of the first game is mashed together with the grim, steam/cyberpunk dystopia of the second and third. Jak is a boy of mysterious origin (TM) who works as a green eco sage's apprentice in one of the last few traditional villages – untouched by extensive technology – left. However, his curiosity gets the best of him, bad things happen, and he is thrust onto a journey to find a cure before time runs out. Along the way, he meets Daxter, an ottsel who also is an unfortunate victim of ancient Precursor tech, and the two travel together across an entire continent to get to Haven City, where Gol and Maia Acheron – the only dark eco sages left in the world – will hopefully cure them of their predicaments.

However, when they arrive they soon get caught up in Haven's seedy underworld, where gangs led by crime bosses like Krew and a rebellious resistance called the Underground rule the streets. Jak needs to make enough money before the dark eco kills him to get a chance at his and Daxter's cure, but are the terrible things he's forced to do worth it? Better yet, the "side effects" of his sickness are getting worse every day, and time is quickly running out…

If you at least somewhat like those ideas, and don't mind a character-driven, possibly novel-length long story (probably with two sequels because what else exists in my life but programming, writing, and other nerdy pastimes) with themes that question religion, explore environmental concerns, highlight class struggle, explore the dynamics between creators and the created, and mull over the ethics of genetic engineering… well, click on that "Next" button down at the bottom of this page, because this is the story for you!

If not, well… I just wasted like ten minutes of your life that you'll never get back. Oops. ;)

Also, one last note: I really want to be a professionally published author someday, so I am totally open – and honestly am glad for – any critique. Feel free to leave your nitpicks and gripes in reviews. This may be fanfiction, but I like to hold everything I write to the same standard of quality I do my original works. As long as your critique isn't, "Eyyy, man, this story isn't like the J&D I know, Jak's slightly OOC, etc…", because then I'll tell you to read this foreword.

Thank you for reading to the end of this! Now, without further ado… sit back, relax, click that "next" button, and get ready to enjoy _Jak and Daxter: Legacy_.


	2. Cover/Map

COVER:

 

MAP:


	3. Chapter 1: Promises

_Jak and Daxter: Legacy_

_Chapter 1: Promises_

Healing was a tough job, even for a green sage's apprentice. The villagers often peeked into the cliffside hut to watch the young man work. To them, what they saw was a miracle. A simple hand wave, a burst of jade light, flesh and blood braiding together with ease.

But the apprentice knew eco channeling was no magic. It was coaxing something to happen sooner, or awakening something that was already _there_. To him, there was always rhyme, always a reason; patterns to what seemed like pure chance, magic, or – yes - even the gods themselves.

They just didn't understand them yet. Of course, one couldn't understand something if one never asked. They simply accepted. Believed.

Jak, on the other hand, would have traded his soul for truth.

"Careful, Jak," said the older man standing to his right, "This one's particularly nasty."

Jak bit his lip and continued to concentrate on the patient before him. The man laid atop a bamboo cot, his wound a raw chasm in a valley of skin. Jak remembered how he'd stumbled in earlier. How the man's hand tried in vain to stop the red from flowing, the other clutching a dripping sickle.

Why or how he'd managed to cut himself with the thing, Jak wasn't sure, but neither he or his teacher – Samos - had hesitated to drag him onto the cot and start their work. Samos typically handled bigger injuries like this, but today was the first day he'd stepped aside and let Jak take the reins completely.

Well, _almost_ completely.

"Check your speed, boy. Go too fast and the wound seals sloppy. Go too slow, you'll fuse his rib to his nipple."

The farmer looked even less pleased than he had before.

Jak raised a brow, "He's only joking, Nazo. But it'd sure be a lot easier if someone wasn't barking in my ear."

"Oh, and _you_ afforded me the same luxury all these years? 'How did you do that, Samos'? 'Let me try, Samos'! 'What are we having for dinner, Samos'?"

"Apprentices are supposed to ask questions."

"No, apprentices are supposed to simply observe. Something you seem to have incredible difficulty with."

"Well, I learned from the best now, didn't I?"

The farmer stopped glancing between the two of them, sighed, and let his head flop back to the straw pillow, "You done yet?"

"Soon," Jak said.

True to his word, Jak finished not long after with a final wave of his hand, then stepped back to admire his work. A scar had taken the cut's place, fine and silvery. Nazo sat up, patted his liver-spotted chest, and nodded.

"Looks pretty damn near new! Thank the Precursors you sages put up with us."

Even though he'd said "sages", Jak noticed Nazo only looked at Samos when he'd spoken. A spiteful "you're welcome" almost slipped past Jak's lips, but he forced them to form a painful smile, instead.

"You can start 'thanking' us – both of us - by not flaying yourself open again. We wouldn't want you in here for a _fifth_ time this month, now, would we?" Samos said.

"Sorry, Samos," Nazo said as he rose from the creaky cot and lumbered out, snatching his sickle from where it rested against the doorframe on the way, "No promises from me."

And with that, Nazo was gone.

"So," Jak turned to Samos, cracking a sly grin and resting his hands on his hips, "How does someone cut _themselves_ with a sickle, anyways?"

"I'm more impressed by the fact that he managed it four times in one month. Honestly, being this village's sage is like watching children play in a wolfadger's den. Every time one of them walks out that door, I think to myself: how long before they return?"

Jak paused for a long while, lips pursed and eyes squinted in thought. Then he said, "I give him three days."

"That's rather generous of you."

The two chuckled, but there was a lingering nervousness that plucked at Jak's gut and soon chased his good spirits away. It had begun the night before, when he'd realized that he'd wake up to yet another birthday.

Every year, there was only one thing he wanted. And every year, he chickened out. Not because it was too much to ask for, but because he knew that he'd get his wish all too easily and nineteen years of theories might just come true.

"So, I was thinking… there's-"

"-something I've been meaning to ask you."

They stared at each other, caught in the awkward silence that always follows when two people speak at the same time. Jak felt his heartbeat drum against his chest. Was Samos going to…?

"You first," Jak said.

Samos paused for a long while, not looking at Jak as he ambled to his desk across the circular room and perused one of his many yellowed tomes. In that moment, Jak realized Samos' back looked more bent than ever, and his hands seemed frailer than ever as he ran them through his scratchy white beard. True, he still wore the same jade robe Jak always remembered, and he still managed to gather enough wisps of hair to wrap around his large wooden hairpiece and hold it in place.

But Jak's smirk faded as he wondered, _Has_ _Samos always looked this old?_

Samos turned around and caught Jak in his green, bespectacled stare. Just a minute ago, they were poking fun at each other, like always. Now he was gazing at Jak so sternly that it gnawed the young man's stomach to anxious shreds. Now was the time. Now he'd finally know-

"I've watched over this village for two centuries, Jak. And in all those years, I've taught many an apprentice. But there comes a time when one tree must let another take root."

"Oh," Jak replied.

He began to tidy up their medicine shelves, hoping the clinking bottles, pungent herbs, and his turned back would hide his disappointment. As he did so, he stared out the window. Sunlight glimmered on the beach, the waves, and the brassy ruins that dotted their village's cove.

This discussion was only making them seem more distant, like a horizon he couldn't touch.

"I'm serious, Jak."

"Samos, you _know_ it would never work out."

"What are you talking about? You've trained with me for almost eleven years now, and you had talent before that. Precursors, Nazo's wound was probably one of the worst we've had in here, and you healed it just fine. No, I'm certain you're ready," Samos walked up to Jak and put his hand on the young man's tense shoulder, "And I'm certain you're the one I want to take my place.

A warmth flooded Jak's chest, but it faded in unison with his growing frown, "It's not that I don't want to, but…"

"Whatever do you mean?"

" _Samos_."

Samos withdrew his hand. Jak was typically a cheerful, if not quiet, calm sort, but when his voice turned low like this the sage knew it meant that ill feelings were slithering about, ready to strike whenever Jak's patience broke. Like one would when reaching through a thorn thicket, Samos chose his next words carefully, slowly, knowing that a wrong move might leave him stung.

"Jak, if there's something you wish to say, now is the time to say it."

"You know exactly what I'm about to say."

Samos' answer was silence.

Jak turned around, fingers tightening on an empty vial he had picked up from the shelf, "They don't like me."

The sage thought for a while, then crossed his arms, "That's not true. And even if it was, what does that have to do with taking over my duties?"

"Are you serious, Samos? It has **everything** to do with it. Have you heard what they've-" Jak gestured to the window by the doorway, through which the village could be seen, "-said about me? Did you see how Nazo acted?"

"Stupid, like always?"

"He wouldn't even look me in the eye when he was thanking you-"

"Thanking _us_."

"No, thanking _you_."

Samos struck the bottom of his staff against the floor, "That doesn't mean that everyone dislikes you. Keira and I like you just fine, and that's all that matters."

The young man stared at Samos as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard, then shook his head and leaned – defeated – against the window.

"The worst part is? All their rumors might be right. And even if they're not, the others never accepted me anyways, and they never will."

Samos opened his mouth to argue, but found the words catching in his throat. They were sickly sweet lies, things a man like Samos – who spoke bitter truths – couldn't bear to let past his lips.

Jak was right. There was a peculiarity to him that unsettled the villagers. Jak came to understand this as the 'yes this, but that' effect.

Yes, he had golden hair, but his roots were an angry red. Yes, he had gentle blue eyes, but his jaw, brow, and cheekbones were impishly sharp. Yes, his skin was warm like sand, but it looked so dark compared to theirs, all sick lily pale.

Yes this, but that, stuck on endless repeat for nineteen years as they'd reminded him time and time again that he didn't look like them, and he'd never be one of them. But that wasn't the whole story. It was his origin – or lack of one – that sealed their tales.

Demon child. Cursed child. _Other_ child.

The vial Jak had been holding in his hand shattered. Samos stepped forward, palm already glowing with green eco, but Jak jerked his arm away before the old man could heal him. Jak ignored the blood and glass shards as they intermingled, warm and sharp, in his closed fist.

The two stood without speaking for a long while, the room's atmosphere locking them in a gloomy embrace as pleasant sunlight, soft wind, and cheering gulls encircled their hut outside. Samos turned his own back, finding refuge from Jak's anger amongst his books.

But he still glanced at the young man from the corner of his eye. He saw the way Jak stared long at the shore, and how his unbloodied hand gripped the salt-stained sill when he turned his head towards the copper ruins just peeking above the forest.

Samos sighed as he mulled over an idea he'd had many times before. He'd suspected the villagers' rumors over the years had likely stung Jak's ears more than once. How much the boy knew, the sage wasn't sure, but the fact that he always seemed so drawn to the ruins told Samos that Jak knew more than he'd hoped the boy ever would.

"How much do you know?"

Jak's gaze fell, "Not much."

"Well, let's get started, then."

An excited glow brightened Jak's face, as if he'd just discovered a treasure chest full of lost gold. He was about to speak, but Samos interrupted with a 'come here' flick of his wrist. Jak followed Samos through the hut, winding around the central column that supported the rooms upstairs, ducking under the clustering vines that grew from pots on the ceiling beams, hurrying towards a room near the back.

Samos' room. Jak paused at the threshold, then watched as the bent man pulled a tattered woven sheet from some furniture at the far end. Beneath it sat a large box.

"I suppose those idiots already mentioned the ruins, yes?" Samos said as he struggled with its silver clasps.

Jak nodded, "A little bit about them, yeah."

The clasps sprung open. Jak tried to peer around Samos when he heard the click, but the sage kept his hand held firmly on the box's dull top.

"Now Jak, before I even _think_ of opening this for you and telling you what I know, you have to make me three promises. One, that you'll accept that everything I'm about to say as the honest truth. Two, that you'll be content with the answer and understand that the best place for you is here, with Keira and I."

"What does that mean?"

"And three," Samos gave Jak a look so sharp it could have split the vast stone cliff cradling their hut into pebbles, "You must promise me that you will not, under _any_ circumstances, go out and try to investigate the ruins in the forest. Have I made myself clear?"

"The ruins? What's there?"

" _Promise_?"

The young man furrowed his brows. He already wasn't liking where this was going. But for years, he'd thrashed about aimlessly in a sea of unknowns, the only thing keeping him afloat being the occasional rumor. He knew he wasn't from Sandover Village, that was for sure, but the rest were fearful superstitions, at best.

Now, he could finally cast all doubt away. Now, he could finally discover the truth he'd sought all this time. All he had to do was nod, and all the mystery would dissipate like sand stolen from a palm by the wind. Jak stared down at his own hand, watching as the little blood still flowing from his cuts pooled in its creases.

He smiled at long last, healed his hand with a burst of green eco, and nodded at Samos.

"Promise."

* * *

Keira returned to the hut at sunset. She was usually greeted with the sound of Samos and Jak – her adopted father and brother – bickering over something, their voices entwined with the buttery smell of a rice and yakow meat dinner stewing over the fire.

But something felt… _off_ when she began to ascend the creaking steps to the main room, where the two did their healing work. There was no sound or smell, save for the chimes ringing from the eaves. Keira paused to peek over the railing. It looked like no one was home. She tightened her green ponytail and headed inside.

Nothing seemed amiss in the hut, save for a broken vial on the floor by the window and an open chest she'd never seen before in Samos' room.

_I swear, if I find those two went to Jadecrest again without me…_ she thought, then went to the ladder attached to the central pillar.

"I'm back from the fields, guys!" she called up, thinking she could hear a fire murmuring in the hearth up there, "I know you're home."

No answer.

"Hello!?"

"Yes, _yes_ , Keira, we're here!" came Samos' voice from two levels up, " _By the Precursors, that girl's voice is loud."_

Keira grinned and climbed up with trained ease, the various tools on her belt clanking against the rungs as she did so. The first level above the infirmary passed quick, nothing more than a blur of plants, bookshelves, and the doors to both hers and Jak's rooms.

"Man, you guys wouldn't _believe_ how many of the villagers' brassbeetles had broken in that storm! I thought I'd never get done fixing them…"

She stopped on the last rung. The kitchen looked normal in every way, but the people in it didn't. Samos' usual scowl had softened to a genuine frown, though he tried to hide it as he turned away to stoke the hearth. And Jak…

Keira had never seen him like this. True, he was the quiet sort and liked to keep to himself, but he usually did so with a smile. Now, as he leaned against the wall, hands toiling over what looked to be a red silk blanket she'd never seen before, he looked glummer than ever.

Keira jumped from the ladder. He didn't even flinch at her arrival (or step forward to ruffle her hair, as he usually liked to do whenever she came home). He just stood there, mouth weighed down by unspoken words, far from Samos and alone in the hazy shadows.

"So… how are you two?"

"Fine," Samos answered.

Keira raised a brow but said nothing. Whatever bomb had gone off, she wasn't interested in getting hit with the shrapnel. She walked over to Samos and started to help with dinner, occasionally glancing over at Jak between stirring and cutting meat to make sure he was still there. Samos liked to chatter away with her about both of their days when they made dinner together, but tonight the sage toiled without a word.

If dinner had been a hell made of silence, the hours afterwards were its deeper, increasingly horrific rings. Keira thrived on conversation. Jak and Samos, however, weren't willing to indulge her tonight. After a while, she gave up on asking them about how many patients they'd had that day, or what kind of herbs they wanted her to collect in the morning, for her answers were only nods, mutters, and Jak fidgeting with that weird blanket of his.

_Whatever…_ Keira thought as she sauntered to her room, lit a candle on her bedstand, cracked open a worn tome, and flopped onto her straw bed, _I suppose a book will have to keep me company, then._

* * *

Keira awoke to the sound of something sharp hitting the roof. She flung herself up in bed, patting drool from her cheek, flinching as her book flopped onto the floor. She scrambled to pick it up, then waited to see if whatever was on the roof would stir again.

Minutes crawled by. When she heard nothing but waves crashing on the shore below the cliff, she settled back into the covers, closed her eyes, and started to drift off to sleep-

_Clank!_

Keira shot up again. The sound was louder this time, followed by the pitter-patter of more. If she didn't know any better, she would have assumed someone was walking on the roof. But to do so would to be suicidal, what with its steep gables and slick, mossy tiles. Still, she found herself grabbing the nearest weapon-like item – a long pine staff she used on her many escapades into the forest – and crept out into the main room.

The steps sounded more distant in the hut's center, though she still could pick them out between the crackle of the dying hearth and wind as she climbed the main ladder. Up above the kitchen, the ladder led to a straw-filled attic, and above that loomed a great crow's nest.

She poked her head above the straw and looked across the roof. In the dim moonlight, she couldn't pick out more than cliffside ivy fluttering in the breeze, the slow, creaking spin of the windmill just outside their hut, and the flicker of lanterns in the village beyond.

"Must have been a bird," she muttered, and started descending the ladder.

A sigh of relief sounded above.

She froze. There _was_ someone up there. Unfortunately for them, Keira was great at hatching plans, and she tightened her grip on her staff as she waited in the darkness of the humid attic. The footsteps began again not long after.

Closer. _Closer._ Just as they passed the opening, she lunged up the ladder and grabbed the trespasser's foot.

They fell with a loud _thump_ onto the wooden tiles. They tried to crawl away, but Keira pulled on their ankle tighter as she heaved herself onto the roof and prepared to whack them with her staff. She twisted around, raised the staff high-

"Keira, wait!"

She stopped mid-swing. That light hair, those blue eyes…

"Jak!?"

"Keira, wait, just… just wait," he scrambled to his feet, wiping moss from his cheek and goatee as he did so, "Just hear me out. And keep quiet, while you're at it. You're gonna wake up Samos."

The way her eye twitched wasn't encouraging, but she soon lowered the staff. Jak was wearing his normal day clothes, though his white trousers and jade tunic were now patchy with dirt. In his hand swayed that strange red silk blanket.

"Look, I know what you're going to say-"

"I don't even know what to _begin_ to say. What are you doing up here? And what's with that weird thing you've been dragging around all day? I've never seen it before."

"It's a long story."

Keira crossed her arms, "Start talking."

He coaxed her to climb to the crow's nest with him, and they settled next to each other, bare feet dangling over the edge. Keira didn't go up there much during the day, never mind at night. Sitting there now, though, she realized she regretted never having tried.

Countless stars speckled the sky above. A sea of glossy palm fronds waved below. The village looked like a sprinkling of tiny boxes at this height, one silver strand of road tying them together before ribboning off into the woods that hugged the rice fields.

Jak seemed unconcerned with the spectacle. He instead focused on his blanket, which looked like a swathe of bottomless shadow beneath his fingers in this light.

"So… you were going to explain that?"

His lips moved to respond, but nothing came out. Keira narrowed her eyes.

"Does this have anything to do with why you and Samos were so quiet today?"

"You noticed?"

Keira failed to hold back a laugh, "How could I _not_?"

His cheeks flushed red. Her curiosity burning stronger than her desire to continue teasing him, Keira apologized and pretended to not mind the following silence. Whatever he was about to say, she would have waited years to hear it. The two may have acted like quarreling siblings much of the time, but she'd be lying if she claimed Jak wasn't her best friend.

She got along with the villagers well enough, but they couldn't understand her on the level Jak could. He knew what it was like to not have any parents, to be raised by a sage, to feel so close to the others yet so far at the same time.

Sometimes, though, his distance from the world spanned miles farther than hers. Right now was one of those times, and even she struggled to reach him across it. She followed his gaze to the ruins just outside the village. They looked like little white mountain peaks at night, ghostly and alien compared to the dark, warm greens surrounding.

"I found out where I came from today."

Keira's stomach felt like it'd dropped to the planet's core. She'd expected some bombshell secret, but not _the_ secret of Jak's life.

"What? Samos actually…?"

"I know, right?"

"And what did he say? What tribe?"

"Well, that's the thing," Jak chuckled, but it was far from genuine, "None of them."

"None of them?"

"I'm not from _anywhere_."

" _ **What**_ **!?** "

The word's echoes bounced across the roof. Keira covered her mouth. Thankfully, their hut and village remained silent, though it was a while before she felt she was ready to remove her hand without blurting out again.

Keira lowered her voice to a whisper, "That's not right, Jak. Are you sure Samos didn't lie to you?"

"He was dead serious, Keira. And there was this chest in his room. He'd had it for I don't know _how_ many years. Probably as long as I've been around. This was in it."

She took the blanket from him as he offered it.

_No wonder he's been gawking at it all day_ , Keira thought as she rubbed her hands over it, _I've never seen material like this before._

Patterns adorned what – by her best guess – must have been some form of silk, swirling endless in its folds. As she tried to gather them all into one clear picture, Jak continued.

"That's all I had when he found me. He said he'd been searching in the woods one morning for some herb. He'd heard some crying, followed it to the mouth of the ruins, and… there I was. Just lying there, wrapped in this blanket."

"So the rumors were true?"

Jak flinched a little at the question.

Keira gently smacked her forehead, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean… just the part about the ruins, is all. Not the other things."

"Do you…?"

She cocked her head, "Do I what?"

"Well, what do you think? Any theories? You're smart. And you know better than anyone that those places aren't-"

"Demon dens? Haunted? Cursed?"

They chuckled, but the gravity of what Jak was implying was a weight only they shared. To admit in public that Keira knew anything about Precursor ruins was to invite suspicion, if not accusations. She tinkered with a few devices she'd found, so what?

It wasn't like they didn't use some already anyways; the scratches she had on her palms from working with the brassbeetles earlier that day proved it. Why discriminate between tech that helped them clear trees for farms, and tech that could clean salt from ocean water, heat rooms, and light their homes? It wasn't like she was re-awakening any weapons of mass destruction. And she never went deep in the ruins, just scrounged around outside them or not far in.

But if anyone ever found the little projects she hid under the floorboards in her workshop, or the hundreds of diagrams she'd drawn over years of secret study, she'd be ridiculed, if not tossed out of the village, no matter what Samos and Jak might do to protect her.

It was the reason she often dreamed about going to the northern cities. Up there, technology was never inhibited. Traveling caravans to their village spoke of eco-powered homes, robots, and even flying machines. Here in Sandover, such things were blasphemy. Such things angered the Precursor gods, whose spirits watched over them from the cursed yet glorious, hallowed yet dangerous skeletons of what was once Nadoa's greatest civilization.

Or so the others claimed.

"I mean, you know their tech better than anybody."

Keira shook her head, "Jak, if you're asking me whether or not the Precursors had machines that could spit out human babies, I don't know, and I doubt it. They usually made weapons, Jak. Weapons."

"They made all the races, didn't they?" Jak waited for Keira to nod, but she didn't as no one knew that for sure, "Where else could I have come from, then? Samos said I was right there, at the mouth of the ruins in the woods. You've been in them, right? What's in them?"

"Never those ones, specifically. And never far in. The Precursors are long dead, anyways. No one could have been there to keep a machine like that running. Jak," Keira paused, not sure how to say her next words without hurting him, "You were probably left there by your mother."

"Keira, look at me."

She did, "And?"

"Do I look anything like any of you?"

"Maybe there was a passing caravan?" she said with a shrug, "Maybe your parents were of different tribes? You look a little red, maybe some yellow…?"

"So two people of two different tribes extremely far from here - that hate each other's guts - got together, produced a kid that not only looks like some freaky mixture of both, but has blue eyes like the blue peoples, and can channel green eco like the green?"

"Maybe your parents were mixed, too? And like I said: caravan. They travel all over. Or maybe they were from the northern cities? People there are mingled together, just like you."

Jak let out a long sigh. That wasn't the answer he wanted. Keira had to admit, it was farfetched, but it was the only rational explanation she could think of. Jak returned his attention to the blanket, twisting it to and fro as if that might wring out some answers.

A pang of pity hit Keira's gut, "I'm sorry, Jak. No one can give you the truth."

"No," Jak's hands paused, then he stood up and faced the woods outside the village, "But the ruins can."

"Jak, you aren't seriously thinking-"

"Why do you think I was up here on the roof in the first place, Keira?" he said, starting to walk towards the crow's nest's ladder, "I need to see what's in those ruins. And I can't just sneak out the normal way. You know how light of a sleeper Samos is."

Keira sprung to her feet and pulled on his arm, "I am _not_ letting you go. There are wolfadgers in the woods at night, not to mention whatever's down inside."

Jak raised a brow, "You're the one that's always poking around places like that."

" _Around_ , Jak. Not in." she followed as he kept walking, grabbing onto the blanket in his hand this time, "Jak, please!"

He stopped. Then he turned around, pushed the whole blanket into her hands, grabbed her by her shoulders, and stared right into her face.

"I need to know, Keira."

Keira closed her eyes and grimaced. What to do? When Jak was dead set on something, there was no stopping him. But what if Samos found out? What would he do to her, since she'd knowingly let Jak go? Even worse, what would he do to Jak?

Of course, that didn't matter if Jak never came back at all.

"Promise me you won't tell Samos?"

She sighed, then nodded, "Only if you promise me you won't get yourself killed."

Jak grinned and drew her into a tight hug. She hid her own smirk in the folds of his shirt as she hugged back, then mumbled ' _you idiot_ ' into his chest.

"I know," he replied and started ruffling her hair, "We can't all be geniuses like you."

She laughed, pushed him away, and fixed her hair back into its typical neat ponytail. His grin didn't budge an inch as he descended the nest's ladder to the roof, then climbed to the ground by a rope that hung from one of the hut's eaves. Keira wanted to keep up a smile on her end, but as she stood there watching his form shrink into the distance, it faded.

He disappeared into the woods, leaving her alone with the blanket in the moon's cold light.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Normally I won't have author's notes like this except to quickly thank reviewers, but since this is the first chapter, I wanted to explain a few things. So...
> 
> 1\. If you're not sure what this story's point is/what it's all about, read the foreword.
> 
> 2\. This chapter is a good example of how long chapters usually will be; anywhere from 3000-7000 words, trending towards the longer side. They typically won't be this dialogue heavy, though some chapters where a lot of character development is necessary may require more.
> 
> 3\. This is going to be a long story. My rough guesstimate from the plotting charts I've done makes me think it may be about 180,000-200,000 words long? There may also be two similar-length sequels. So... I hope you like epics!
> 
> 4\. I am a super busy college student just finishing up my last year and have two jobs, but I will try to update once a week, or every two weeks. The day may vary.
> 
> 5\. Forgive me if the characters are a little OOC; this is a reboot, so the characters have been reimagined and may not fully resemble their original incarnations. However, I've tried to keep them as close as possible while also changing them enough to fit the new plot, save for about two later on (who I felt would greatly benefit from a larger rehaul).
> 
> 6\. Con-crit is always welcome! I strive for writing quality work and your feedback helps me achieve that goal.
> 
> 7\. There is, in fact, a map I've made for the journey that takes place in this story. Check out the "Map" chapter to see it!
> 
> 8\. Daxter WILL be a character! He'll be introduced within the next six chapters or so, I promise. I just wanted his and Jak's friendship to slowly grow rather than to have been already established, like in the original story.


	4. Chapter 2: Dark Blooming

_Jak and Daxter: Legacy_

_Chapter 2: Dark Blooming_

Here atop the ridge by the forest, Jak could see Sandover in all its subdued glory, its sands and oceanic cradle silver in the moonlight. He shielded his eyes and stared down, wondering if Keira was still watching him from the crow's nest, now only a speck in the distance.

Jak hated leaving her behind, but he planned on making this venture a short and simple one. Get in, look around, get out, and make it back to the hut by dawn. He'd be dreadfully tired the next day, but as he turned around to look at the ruins, all thoughts of consequences dissipated from his mind. Rabid curiosity took their place.

He slid down from the ridge, fast through the trees and shadows, to a ravine just deep enough for him to crouch in. The ruins lay beyond the overgrown clearing ahead. Jak came to the woods on occasion to gather herbs or explore with Keira, but he'd never been this close to them.

The fortress looked like the vines, gnarled roots, and moss smothering it were trying to hold back and bury a metal monster. Smooth walls spread from its center; two great, shining shoulders supporting a wedge-shaped head with dull yellow eyes for windows and a hollow, beckoning mouth for a door.

It was that same mouth that stole Jak's attention. For a moment, he forgot to listen for predators, and instead focused on the wind that moaned out from within. There, in the stirring grass before the doorway's brass lip, was where he'd been found.

Samos' words replayed in his head.

" _Imagine my surprise when I crossed over the stream, only to find a bundle of red by the ruins' entrance. I first wondered what kind of trick the demons might be playing. What manner of otherworldly beast might be tempting me forward?"_

Jak took his first step into the clearing with a grimace, as if the villagers' rumors might be true and a horde of demons might spill forth at the touch of his toe to the dirt.

Nothing happened. He took another step. Then another. Soon, he was halfway to the entrance, walking at a regular pace.

" _Even when I gathered enough courage to near, I thought the bundle would dissipate at the slightest touch. With a shaking hand, I turned it over… and found_ _ **you**_ _staring back."_

Jak stopped at the very spot. He put his palm to the earth there, then looked at the path rightways through the trees. Was Keira right? Had his mother traveled on that same dusty road and left him there? But for what reason? Who could just leave a child in a wood alone?

Perhaps she knew Samos was near and hoped he'd find him? Or perhaps…

Jak turned his stare to the ruins' entrance just a few feet away. It stared back, empty, unnerving, sighing out the scent of wet earth and rust. Or - if Jak wasn't trying to suppress his vivid imagination at this point - death and blood. He pulled his hand back from the ground and closed both into fists, stood, and faced the great darkness with a grim glare.

He _had_ to know for sure.

The metal floor felt like ice against his bare feet. He channeled green eco and used it to fend off the shadows. In this part, there was only a tunnel not much wider than his shoulders, with a braid of copper pipes leaking above. As he walked, twisting and turning and glancing around, the tunnel continually descended until he half-believed he might soon meet the planet's core.

 _There can't be nothing down here_ , Jak thought, _I'm sure it's just a bit further-_

 _Thump!_ Jak recoiled, having walked into something large and solid. His eco snapped out. He frantically channeled some more, then reached out a trembling hand to let its green light touch the object.

A plaque. Or a record, of some sort. It was covered in the Precursors' language, which to Jak always looked like a series of swerving channels and round islands in a sepia sea. He knew how to read a little, thanks to Samos' tutelage, but he could only make out the title at the top due to wear:

_PROJECT LEGACY_

The paragraphs below were too small and faded to translate. Above it sat a strange symbol. It looked like two comets swirling around in an endless dance, their tails wrapped around the other's head. Jak had never seen anything like it before. He racked his memory for explanations; myths Samos had told him that would explain such an image. But he recalled none.

With a shrug, he walked around the plaque and found another doorway. Beyond it, a room wider than his light could reveal. He tried to increase his eco output, but down here – far from any living things – he was stuck with not much more than a candle-sized glow.

A little doubt began to nibble at the back of his mind. He hadn't found much in the way of anything that could have produced a human child, be it ancient god spirits with magic or a device, but he wasn't sure he wanted to venture further. As reluctant as he was to fully believe folklore, a part of him still felt like this was all wrong.

In other words, this was his instincts' way of shoving a "turn back now" sign in his face.

Jak was about to listen to them, but he heard a small mechanical whirring not too far ahead. It spread from the far end of the room to the metal beneath his feet. He scurried back, wondering what horrific nightmare was about to be let loose, but instead he saw a light.

Then another. And another. Soon the whole floor's perimeter was alive with glow. He peered through the painful blue and found that the room was filled to the brim with ancient devices. They looked like desks and metal tombstones, all lined in circles and rows. Some had buttons atop them. Others emitted great walls of light.

He let his eco go out and rounded the room slow, his eyes wide, arms limp, mouth agape.

" _Did you go inside, Samos?"_

" _Inside!? Why would I have gone inside?"_

" _You found a baby just outside a ruin and… you didn't investigate?"_

Jak held his hand over one of the devices; he could feel vibrations hum against his palm, even though he hadn't fully pressed it to the metal.

" _Jak, it's forbidden. And besides, I already knew everything I needed to. You were alone, hungry, and your name was Jakan Kur, or so the small parchment left with you claimed. I asked many of the other sages across the continent about that family name. So many letters, Jak. None returned with answers."_

" _But weren't you at least a little curious?"_

" _The ruins are the Precursors', and the Precursors' alone. They are empty, haunted places of no value except as warnings. They tell us a story all should know: technology gets you nowhere, but dead and gone."_

Should he touch the machine? He glanced up at its screen. Some of the words read, 'end', 'centuries', and 'retaliation'. The others, he couldn't tell. What had the Precursors used these things – and this place – for?

" _Have you even been in them before? How do you know?"_

" _Jak, I don't know how you got there. You either were put there by a wandering, desperate mother, or the Precursors' spirits placed you there for me to find, the latter of which I_ _ **highly**_ _doubt. They may be gods, but they don't meddle much in our world. They simply observe, Jak."_

He finally coaxed himself to touch his fingers to it. He winced. Then he cracked his eyes open to find that nothing had happened. It was cold and dead and silent.

" _So… that's it, then?"_

"That's it," Jak repeated Samos' answer aloud in the present, "Sure as hell isn't as empty as you claimed it was, though."

A frustration burned in his core. He ripped his hand away from the device, then walked to the end on the far side of the room. There was a round groove, perhaps a door, but there seemed to be no way of opening it.

"Well," his next words stung as he said them, "That was an utter waste of time."

He turned around. The whirring and lights of the machines rambled and glittered on. Perhaps he could come back here in the future and slowly decipher their words? That might give him some answers.

But until then, he was still Jak, the originless, parentless, ignorant orphan with no tethers to tie him to anything but a mystery he'd likely never solve. He gritted his teeth.

"You know what?" he called to the room, "You're useless!"

No answer, save for his echoes resounding endlessly against the bronze walls, the same words bouncing back. Of course. He doubted the Precursors' spirits were listening, much less still existed. But he had some grievances he wanted to air, in the off chance that the gods' ears might catch them.

Arms spreading wide, he walked down the steps back to the main floor.

"Do you know how long it took me to get here? How long I haven't known? Nineteen years. _Nine. Teen._ I've been raised on stories about you. How you shaped the world. How you created us. I've been told about your power, your wisdom, and how you watch over us day after day. I've been diligent. I've said my prayers. I've given you offerings. I've even healed people in your name."

More whirring. More glittering. More humming.

"But you know what? I'm sick of it," he continued, "I'm sick of _you_. You placed us here – and probably placed me out there - and then you left. And the worst part is, is that I'm not even supposed to ask any questions. I don't even know who you are!"

Jak hoped he'd be answered, but like always, he wasn't. He sighed, then glared at the floor, arms dropping to his sides.

"And now I'll never know who _I_ am."

Defeated, he headed back towards the plaque and looked at it one last time. The symbol was now aglow with the same light that the machines gave off. Jak put his hand to it, feeling warmth and a hum like he had with one of the devices earlier.

"'Project Legacy', huh? Some 'legacy' you guys le- ow!"

The symbol sparked. He pulled his hand back, pain prickling his skin. He could hardly gather his thoughts as the floor itself lit up with a white path that swerved towards the opening at the back, which now squealed open as the line of light struck its edge. Jak stared, forgetting his hand and walking – then jogging – towards the round doorway.

"Welcome to PROJECT LEGACY. This facility was last entered exactly six thousand, nine hundred and thirty-five days – or nineteen years - ago."

Jak forgot his terror at hearing a voice emanating from the ceiling when he heard the words 'nineteen' and 'years'. Awed, he jumped into the next hall and ran as he followed the white path of light leading ahead, his heart thumping louder and his grin growing wider than he ever remembered.

"Because of the nature of this facility, there are likely no resident staff here to assist you as you make your way to the eco chambers. Please follow the white line and wait for further instruction when you arrive."

 _You don't have to tell me twice_ , Jak thought as he hurried on, _But what in the hell are eco chambers?_

The hall began to curve, then descended, then widened to a huge central room where three doorways faced him from the round walls. The white line he'd been told to follow ended in the middle, where a small podium rose from the floor.

When he got closer, the top slid open to reveal what looked to be a large glass eye. He leaned over, staring into its crystal depths, only to have a bright red light flash back. He flinched and covered his eyes while it extended, washing more light over him.

Was it… watching him, in some way? He dared peek out from behind his raised arm and found that – when he did – it sounded a loud _beep_.

"Identity confirmed. Test subject number three of PROJECT LEGACY. Name: Jakan. Category: Kur. Age: Nineteen. Species: Human. Gender: Male."

"You know who I am!?" Jak asked, shaking the "eye" in desperation, "Please, tell me everything!"

"Please enter the door to your left."

On that cue, it opened. Jak stared; yet another dark mouth with secrets trapped behind. The "eye" ripped itself from his grip and shot out another red light. It jerked up and down, watching, seemingly analyzing every fiber of his skin.

"Your reluctance to enter has been noted. Please feel assured that, even though eco introduction is an incredibly painful process, this procedure has been deemed necessary for PROJECT LEGACY to meet fruition."

"Look, I just wanted to figure out where I'm from. Can you tell me who my parents are?"

Another scan.

"Your continued reluctance to enter has been noted. While we recognize your free will as a sentient being, we are now booting a synthetic assistant to help you make your way to the testing chambers. You are highly encouraged to comply."

"Synthetic assistant?"

There came a piercing screech. Jak watched as a hole next to the podium yawned open in the floor. A copper tube with a humanoid figure inside emerged. There was a jolt. Then a _click_! The glass peeled back to reveal a metal man draped in shadow, save for its single eye, the light of which gleamed yellow against its corroded face and chest.

Jak stared in horror as it came to life, steam pouring from two spouts on its shoulders and head jerking towards him. Rust and dust sprinkled onto the floor as it moved its bird-like legs, pulled itself from the tube, and stepped out. Jak backed away, but was too slow to avoid getting his wrist caught by its three-fingered hand.

He was yanked into the air, dangling useless and yelping as it started to take him towards the door. He tried kicking out its hip, breaking its hand, pounding his fist down on its arm, but the mechanical construct stared intently on, as if only a fly had been bouncing harmlessly against it.

For a village boy whose only exposure to robots had been the simple brassbeetles used on their farms, this one seemed an impossibility. He'd heard that the Precursors had advanced tech, and the small machines Keira had secretly worked on at home certainly proved so, but Jak had never seen anything like this before.

The robot took them inside the next room, metal feet clanking against the matching floor. Jak gave up trying to free himself and instead focused on what horrors lay ahead as they continued. They passed so many rooms and halls that they all became a brass and neon blur.

Finally, after what felt like a century to Jak, the robot lurched into one last chamber with an open doorway at its end. The walls hummed into life with holographic screens printing off line upon line of glitching, cerulean text. Jak tried to read them, but only caught a few words as the bot brought him to the doorway. Something about the "Hora-Quan", a term Jak had never heard before nor could translate to anything that made sense.

"Welcome to the eco introduction testing chamber. Your synthetic assistant will now gently place-"

Jak didn't hear the rest as the robot tossed him into the last room. He scrambled to get back out, but the door clanked shut just as he reached it.

"What the hell is this all about!?" Jak called, pounding his fists against the door, "Let me out!"

The only sound he heard next was the robot's footsteps fading away, its job complete. Jak turned around, slumped to the floor, and covered his face with his hands, heart tremoring as he wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

 _I just wanted to know the truth. Fuck, Samos is going to_ _**kill** _ _me. If I even make it out of here, that is._

Jak peered at this new room through the gaps in his fingers. In the center was a strange chair, overshadowed by a bizarre contraption that hung from the ceiling by a steel pole. There were two of those same button-covered desks to the left, and more glass tubes to the right. As Jak watched the energy within them churn about, he realized they must have contained some kind of eco.

But one he'd never seen before. It resembled smoky shadows, furling and twisting within itself like writhing black and purple snakes.

Eco. Eco introduction chamber. Chair. A machine with… Jak peered through the otherworldly glow and realized there were needles on the end of its legs.

Thin, gleaming, precise.

Jak burst to his feet and pushed his back as hard as he could against the door, though he knew he was powerless to open it.

"Hey, uh… voice? Machine? Precursors?" Jak squished his eyes closed as he continued, " _Anyone_?"

"Do you have any questions before we begin testing?" the hollow voice answered.

"Can I leave?"

"We are sorry. An answer for that does not exist within our database. If you have no further questions, please sit in the chair so that we may begin the procedure."

"Look, I don't know who you are, or what you want. If, by some small chance, _you're_ the Precursors, I humbly apologize for ranting at you back there. If you let me go, I'll just go back to my village, spread the word of your, ah-" he paused, grimacing as the contraption began to steam into life, "-charming hospitality, and live out my life in reverent ignorance. Is that okay?"

There was a long pause.

"We are sorry. An answer for that does not exist within our database. If you have no further questions, please sit in the chair so that we may begin the procedure."

Jak's ensuing groan would have been comical, had he not been stuck in what felt like a nightmare. He supposed he could just sit there and wait it out. How long would this thing keep him here? It might be hours, or even days… He wondered if he'd ever see natural light again.

Or Samos and Keira. How long had he been gone? He shuddered when he thought about the sun rising and Samos trying to rouse him and Keira like he did every morning, only to find Jak's bed empty. The betrayal he'd feel after realizing that Jak had broken his promise.

"You were right…" he murmured aloud, "Like always."

At the very least, his death would be a peaceful one. He supposed this room was as good a place as any, though Samos and Keira would never find his body. To be honest, he hoped they didn't.

"We have realized that you have not seated yourself."

"And it's gonna stay that way," Jak spat back.

"Now initiating forced procedure."

"Forced procedu-?"

Jak couldn't finish before one of the machine's non-needled arms shot out and grabbed him by the waist. It jerked up. Then forwards. Then down, slamming him into the chair. Metal cuffs formed and clamped down tight over his wrists and ankles.

A floodgate of terror opened within Jak. He wrestled against the restraints as alarms began to blare and flash, bathing the room in angry red light. The rest of the contraption above started to lower like a spider spinning down to its prey.

"Running third test trial for PROJECT LEGACY, version unknown. Please relax as-"

" _How the fuck am I supposed to relax!?"_

"We are sorry. An answer for that does not exist within our database."

One arm burst forward, covering his mouth with a metal half-mask and slamming his head into the chair's back. A sharp ache pierced his skull from the impact, but Jak hardly noticed it after another arm – one with a needle about the length of a finger – jolted forward.

It paused just before his chest. He opened his eyes to see the needle there, gleaming in the red light, so very, very close to piercing his skin. What was going on? Had there been a malfunction in whatever horrible machine this was?

 _Please let me out. Please let me out,_ Jak mentally begged, tears threatening to break over his eyelids, _Let me go, let me go, let me go…_

Sweat cascaded down his temples. Still no movement from the needle. He could feel it prickling at his shirt if he inhaled deep enough. Another minute passed, and nothing happened. Was this some kind of joke? A nightmare? Was it broken? Was he… safe?

Then a click. A whirring back to life. A strange dark fog – likely the same purplish eco from the glass tubes – started to pour from the needle.

_Oh, f-!_

The needle slid in. One moment, he felt fine. The next, a pain worse than anything else he'd ever experienced knocked the breath out of him. It spread slowly, striking lines of fire from his heart down through his torso and arms, eventually poisoning his head, fingers, and toes. Even his tears felt like lava as they flowed down over his cheekbones, past the half-mask, and down his throat.

His thoughts numbed as the torture continued. All he could think of was his searing hot veins, his rush to fight for air as his nose clogged with snot, and the furious racing of his heartbeat as it drummed at a pace he never thought possible.

But there was something deeper than all that that was starting to emerge. At first, he barely recognized it. Then the feeling grew and grew, until it was fighting against the pain for dominance over his mind.

And in that moment, when agony and anger slid into perfect eclipse, the room turned from a cruel machine into an enemy that must be crushed. Inhuman strength flooded his muscles. Blind rage clouded his thoughts. His blue eyes snapped open, cold and clear, pupils turning to mere pinpricks in the ice as he lost all control.

Jak broke free.

The restraints clattered uselessly against the walls. He jerked up and pulled the mask from his mouth, ripped its whole arm from its socket, and flung it hard at the spidery injection device. It collapsed to the floor before him, sparking and hissing, eco spilling from its tube veins, but he wasn't even near finished yet.

He grasped the needle arm still wedged in his chest and tore it out. Dark blood oozed from the wound, making a black blossom bloom across his jade shirt. But there was no pain. Only anger. Raw, unceasing anger, jerking him along on a leash as he took it and stabbed it repeatedly into the button-covered machines along the wall. The holographic screens blinked on and off until their core was so damaged that they never came back again.

The red alarms died. The shadowy substance ceased billowing from the injection machine. Jak stood there amongst the wreck and sparks and eco and smoke, lungs heaving in delicious air. Half of him was ready to collapse and die. The other half felt ready to tear the rest of these damned ruins apart.

But the eclipse ended, and his rage soon passed. All that was left was a burning agony like the sun, melting him down as he fell back into his humanity again.

Jak burst from the room, coughing, holding a trembling hand to the wound in his chest. The injection hadn't killed him, but he feared his attempt to escape might. By no small miracle, he made it to the surface despite his foggy brain. He passed the seemingly endless halls, the main chamber where the robot now stood, motionless and dead, then crossed the first room and half stumbled, half crawled up the entrance tunnel.

 _How much blood can I lose?_ he thought as he emerged into the dawn's light, _And how much more of this pain can I take?_

He reached the clearing just outside the ruins, but as soon as his bare feet hit the dirt, he collapsed. A voice called up ahead, warm and familiar. A gentle pressure pressed on his wound. The soothing voice caressed his ear, repeating like a record stuck on his name. Then there was blinding light. Either he was dying, or one of the villagers had found him.

As Jak laid there before the ruins' mouth, swaddled in a growing circle of red, he wasn't sure which he feared more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boy here gets all mean and nasty when you piss him off. So don't piss him off. Word to the wise. :D


	5. Chapter 3: Warm Farewell

_Jak and Daxter: Legacy_

_Chapter 3: Warm Farewell_

No funeral procession in Sandover Village passed without a trail of ambersinge incense smoke billowing behind. So when Jak awoke to its smell – golden, powdery, and warm – he figured that he, too, was now headed for a long nap in a cold dirt bed.

But then Jak remembered: the dead can't wish they were dead. And as light stabbed his eyes, aches wracked his limbs, and realization struck his mind senseless, he found himself doing just that.

"Damn it," he managed to mumble, "Precursors _damn_ it."

A sudden stirring of footsteps on wood and the brush of air against his body meant that someone had neared. He let his head flop to the side and coaxed his heavy eyes to glance up. Between the bleary smudges of a dim room, he could make out two green irises, a matching, messy braid, and two hands criss-crossed over where a mouth should have been.

"Gods, I think he's awake," came the figure's distant voice, "He's _alive_ -"

"Stay away from him, Keira! We don't know if…"

"Wha…?" Jak mumbled.

He strained to hear the rest, but found his ears denying entrance to all but a few vowels, as if someone had stuffed them with cotton. But he'd heard 'Keira'. That must have been the green-haired figure above. He found himself smiling at the thought. That meant he was home, at least.

But why had the other one told her to stay away? He tried to reach out to her foggy form, to tell her in what little way he could that all was fine, but found he couldn't move his arm.

"-still Jak."

"Yes, but… don't want another… no condition to…" the second voice replied in fragments.

"-can't be serious! I'm taking…"

He felt her fingers at one of his wrists, moving around as if working on something. The second voice came back, louder this time, and her hands moved away.

"No! We should at least get him aware and talking, first. We need to assess his state of mind. Now, go out there and calm the villagers while I wake him up."

"What am I supposed to tell them?"

"Tell them that I'm busy grieving."

"And if they ask questions?"

" _Then_ you tell them to stop sticking their noses where they don't belong and get back to work! Harvest some rice, till some fields, weave some baskets, play in the dirt, I don't care!"

There was a sigh. Stomping. Then the slamming of a door.

Something fuzzy slithered onto the space above Jak's mouth. A strong smell struck him like a spiked mallet to the nose. The stench, one that conjured the image of a rotted carcass stewing in piss, jerked him into full consciousness. He immediately tensed his body and pulled his head as far away as possible, only turning his head back when the source – thank the Precursors – was pulled away and he managed to stop gagging.

The room sharpened into harsh focus. Like he'd suspected, he was back home in their hut, but with himself as the patient on the cot this time. The windows facing the village were covered by sheets, shoddily patched. Ambersinge incense frothed smoke from brass burners on the sills.

An elderly man with a long white beard stood above. Jak was reminded of depictions he'd seen of the Precursors in tapestries; gods staring down at feeble mortals, faces twisting sour and angry as they decided that they were long overdue for a reminder of what wrath felt like.

Jak swallowed hard, then said, "H-hey, Samos."

Samos said nothing, only pulled the drawstring bag holding the source of the terrible smell tight like a noose around its flimsy stalks. Jak recognized it as wakeroot, something they used for patients who'd fainted or slipped into unconsciousness during a healing. Samos slapped the bag onto the cotside table, then turned back to Jak, arms crossing.

"Look, before you say anything," Jak tried to get up so that he could fully face Samos, but found his arms and legs wouldn't budge, "What the…?"

He glanced up, then down at each. They were tied to the cot's edges with rope. _He_ was tied.

"Uh…?"

"A safety precaution," Samos finally said, "But before I even think of untying you and letting you blurt out whatever stupid excuse you think I'll accept for all of this, I want you to know three things: one, I don't want to hear it, two, you're an idiot-"

"Good morning to you, too, Samos," Jak snapped back.

"-and three, you're damn well lucky we found you when we did, because you either would have bled out, or worse… the villagers could have found you and decided it was high time they sharpened their pitchforks."

Jak raised a brow, "What? Why would they have wanted to kill me?"

"Why are the ruins forbidden in the first place, Jak?"

He sighed, "Because it defiles the resting place and laws of the Precursors."

"And what happens when you defile the resting place and laws of the Precursors?"

"The gods come down and wreak vengeance upon us terrible mortals, cause the elderly to lose sight, babies to be born still, and… what was the last part?"

"Turn the crops to ash, Jak. They turn the crops to ash."

Jak rolled his eyes, "You and I both know you don't believe all that."

"You're correct. I don't. But _they_ do," he jabbed a thumb towards the door, "And right now, your sister is out there, trying to placate them by reassuring them that you were likely mauled by a wolfadger in the night and we couldn't find anything of you but a bloody shred of your shirt. Why do you think we smothered the windows and started burning ambersinge?"

Jak's jaw dropped and he stared at Samos for a long while. Then, "You told them _what_?"

"Well, we couldn't very well let them know about that magical bruise on your chest, now, could we? Half of them already believed you were a demon's child. One look at that and they'd consider it proven."

"Magical bruise? What…?"

Samos reached over and tugged free the bandages wrapped around Jak's chest. Jak glanced down at himself. Layer by layer, a mark that looked like an ink spill across his heart was revealed. But it didn't feel raw or sensitive like any normal wound. It was numb and dead, as if someone had carved out his flesh there and instead planted a patch of cold space. He'd never seen anything like it before. How had he gotten it? He didn't remember…

Then he did. Memories locked his mind's eye in a sharp grip. There were the brass walls, the alien blue lights, the robot, the chair, a needle, and pain. Then nothing. Then fleeing from a smoking, sparking room, a wet hand, and running – half-slipping – over hot blood and freezing metal.

Then light. Then darkness.

"I…" Jak finally choked out.

"Care to explain what exactly happened in those ruins?"

And so he did. Jak recalled every excruciating detail. Samos' glower threatened to turn into a frown as Jak continued, but it wasn't until Jak mentioned the strange eco that Samos' mouth fully gave in. Still, Samos listened as Jak finished, though he looked as if he was already drowning in too many of his own thoughts to pay much attention.

He curtly nodded as Jak finished his story, "So, that's it, then."

"Look, Samos, I know you told me…" Jak paused, guilt worming into his heart, "I know it was stupid to go there. I just wanted – _needed_ – to know what was in the ruins. You can get mad at me later for breaking my promise all you want. I deserve it. Just untie me, and we can start trying to heal this thing."

Samos wouldn't return Jak's pleading stare.

"Samos, we can heal this, right?"

"Do you know what dark eco does to a person, Jak?"

 _So that's what it's called_ , Jak thought, _Dark eco. But why does Samos know about it? And what is it, exactly?_

He wanted Samos to continue, but wasn't sure he wanted the answer, either. The wound didn't feel dire. Just… empty. But here Samos was, acting like he was attending a funeral.

"There's a reason you've never heard of it before. It's rare, and no sage with half a brain would even _dare_ dabble in it."

"It's not like I meant to. I told you already: I got trapped and the room, or the voice, or Precursors… _whatever_ it was, forced me. Now, are you going to free me, or not?"

"I'm not. And do you know why, Jak? Can you even begin to comprehend what you've done? What will happen to you!?"

Jak didn't answer, stunned.

Samos turned away, his voice quieting, "The effects will seem harmless, at first. You'll feel a little numb, perhaps. Then it will start to get worse. Worse, worse, and worse, spreading farther and farther like a sick, black vine that strangles everything in its wake. You'll begin to fear it."

"Fear it-?"

"Dark eco is volatile, Jak. That angry fit in the ruins wasn't an isolated case."

Jak froze. He remembered the way he'd given into that sudden rage. At the time, he'd thought it was some fluke of pure survival instinct, but now as he recalled the memory, he realized that it was the eco – not his own strength – that had pushed him over the edge. He'd left that room a sparking, smoking, ripped to little pieces mess, but he'd only broken a few machines. But what if it happened again? What if it turned him against something else? _Someone_ else?

He suddenly understood the restraints. Though, he wasn't sure how much rope would help when the metal ones in the ruins had done nothing to stop him.

"And what triggers it?"

"Strong negative feelings. Fear. Rage. Pain. The more you give in, the more that mark will spread. And the more it spreads, the more you will give in. It's a never-ending cycle of fear and destruction. Then your mind will go. Then…"

"Then…? It can't go on forever?"

Samos said nothing.

The incense's furling smoke was the only thing that moved for the longest time. Jak felt his heartbeat as the thundering silence between meager thumps. Instead of breathing in, he felt like he was constantly breathing out, losing any air his lungs desperately tried to hold. The numbness in his new wound became the only thing he could feel.

Jak swallowed hard, "There's… there's gotta be some sort of cure? Some way I can stop it?"

More silence.

"Samos? Samos, _please_."

"I know of none. However, someone else might."

Jak let out the greatest breath of relief he'd ever held, "Oh, thank the Precursors! For a second there, I thought…"

He trailed off as Samos started towards the desk. He watched while the sage dug through tomes and yellowed parchment sheets, searching for something amongst the dusty pages.

"Now," the sage said suddenly, turning around with a large scroll in hand, "This should work well enough."

He let the scroll snap open. Line after wandering line of oceans, islands, rivers, and shores snaked through the paper. Jak recognized the most southern tip, on which the words " _Sandover Village"_ balanced like a worm on a hook, but everything farther north than a town called Jadecrest – the next ink splotch up from Sandover - was unfamiliar.

"Here is where you might find a cure."

Jak glanced up from Sandover's coast, trailed his eyes over basins, meadows, mountains, sea, steppe, marshes, wasteland, and a long bridge to a great city on an island that lay under Samos' finger.

"Haven City?" Jak said as he read its name, "How far away is that? And that's one of the northern cities, I can't go-"

"It's your only chance, Jak," Samos rolled the scroll back up and set it next to him, "And a slim one at that. _If_ you happen to make it all the way, assuming animals, bandits, or slavers don't eat or kidnap you first, you must find two people: Gol and Maia Acheron. I don't know how long you have with that wound, but you should have at least a year left, maybe two. It takes two months to get there."

If Jak still hadn't been tied down, he'd have held his face in his hands. Haven City? Gol and Maia Acherwhat? Bandits? Slavers? _How_ many miles? Two months to get there? And two years… _**maybe**_?

Just yesterday, he'd been healing sickle wounds and gathering herbs. Today, he was being told he not only was likely going to die, but had to travel across an entire continent? And when he got there, there was a slim chance that there _might_ be someone that could help?

Those weren't even the most troublesome questions Jak had.

"Samos?"

"Hmm?"

"Just _how_ do you know all this? About dark eco? And this… Gol and Maia, was it?"

Samos turned his back to Jak once more and walked to the desk, tidying up the papers and tomes he'd tossed aside to find the map. In that moment, Jak watched the man's frown soften, his hands cease their sifting through the parchment sea, and his eyes glance down, avoiding the sunlight that broke through a small tear in the sheet draping the window.

"Asking questions is what got you in this position in the first place. That I know is all you need to know… and feel lucky for."

"But-"

The door squealed open. Keira squeezed in, the sounds of chattering people dying as she shut it once more and leaned against the wood. She took a deep breath, fixed her messy bangs behind her ears, and looked up at Samos.

"Well, the masses have been placated."

"And what did you tell them?" Samos asked.

"The same. Wolfadger. Got mauled. Couldn't find the body. Still grieving, get back to work. Funeral's tomorrow at noon."

"That's my girl."

Keira gave a little smile, then turned her stare to Jak, "Hey, glad you're not dead."

"Yeah," Jak's face crumpled with worry, "For now."

* * *

The morning passed into dreary afternoon, and dreary afternoon soon became night. Samos had put Jak through some minor tests to see at what point the eco might trigger a rage, but none – not even when he'd pinched, frightened, nicked Jak's arm without warning, or annoyed him – had worked. However, the wound hurt a little after each, as if someone were rubbing a slight burn with sand. But he'd passed, and so was freed from the cot and ropes.

Throughout the day, Keira kept an eye on the door and windows to make sure none of the villagers were peeking in. Samos gave Jak many things; a pack, food that would keep, a book on healing herbs that could be found in the wild far and wide, another on surviving in said wild, ointments, bandages, a dagger, and most importantly: advice.

"Stick to the roads, but camp further away from them at night. Hide your eco abilities when you get farther north; slavers prey on channelers. And remember the customs I taught you about the other tribes."

"Yes, Samos," Jak said while packing everything away that Samos had shoved into his arms, "I remember them."

"While you're in green tribal lands, lay low. You're supposed to be dead, remember? If anyone recognizes you, just tell them you're going to Riverjoint to buy some starblossom for me at the markets there," he handed Jak a brown, hooded cape and plain clothes, "Cut your hair short, cover your face with this, and wear these. That green tunic will make you stick out like a sore thumb."

"Samos?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ever come back? Even just to see you and Keira?"

He paused for a long while, then grabbed the map he'd shown Jak earlier and shoved it into the young man's hand.

"You're dead to the village, Jak, remember?"

And dead he was. He stared out the window in the hut's highest level at sunset, careful to only peek from behind the sheet. He felt like a ghost, torn from a world he'd just lived in yesterday. People in the village below were already preparing a funeral pyre like ants pulling sand to a mound, though when the stack of sticks and straw burned and blackened the next day, it would be purely symbolic. There was no body, just as Samos said. It would be leaving in the early morning with a heartbeat and warm flesh.

At dinner, Samos seemed as if he couldn't stop the endless cascade of advice that tumbled from his mouth between bites. As Jak sat there, eating what was likely the last meal he'd ever have with the only family he'd ever had, he secretly wished the man would hand him a better weapon instead of more knowledge. Or a hug. Or _something_ to defend against the growing hopelessness in his heart.

Keira remained grimly silent, something Jak had never seen before. She wouldn't meet his eye, either. He watched her as she weakly chewed, her gaze a dull green and stuck on the distant horizon.

They finished and slept, though Jak's was an uneasy, dreamless, segmented sleep. He kept waking up to find his hand clutching the dark eco mark, its center a weak flame. When he stirred for what felt like the hundredth time, he watched the sky through the pinpricks in the sheet covering his window. Dark purple. He'd need those shadows to sneak away before both the sun and villagers awoke.

He dressed in the clothes and cloak Samos had given him, then made his bed as if he'd never touched it, looking around at his room as he did so. Would it change after he was gone? What would they do with the collection of pale seashells on his desk, or the scrolls painted with one-lined gulls and oceansides hanging on the walls? He supposed a new apprentice would replace them with their own belongings after he was gone. He hoped that whoever they were, they'd enjoy learning from Samos as much as he had.

Jak blinked the glassiness from his eyes. It was his own godsdamned fault, and there was no sense tearing up over it. At least, that's what he told himself as he snatched up his pack and slowly, weakly shut his door behind him.

He slid down the hut's central ladder. He could hear Samos snoring in his room. Jak almost knocked on the door, but stopped before his knuckles could strike the wood. Leaving Samos and Keira was hard enough. He didn't know if he could handle it if they were awake to see him off, his guilty face reflected in their eyes.

Turning away felt like dragging anchors from his ankles. Head lowered, he left the hut, cursed the grass for being cold and wet beneath his feet, and yelped as someone yanked him back by his hood.

" _Shh!_ " hushed the voice, "Do you want Samos to wake up?"

He twisted around to find Keira staring back. She took him by the hand and pulled him under the hut's stilts, around to a crevice in the cliff face. To outsiders, it looked like a simple gash in the rock, but Jak knew of a passage further in. Keira ahead, they ducked and picked their way through the earth. She unbolted a small makeshift door at the end.

On the surface, Keira's workshop looked like a metal graveyard. Tools, scraps, screws, and brassbeetle parts were stuffed together in baskets, splayed on the central table, and piled in corners, all aglow beneath the hanging lamps lit with blue flamefringe bugs. The true secret, however, lay beneath the floorboards that squeaked as Jak stumbled in. That was where she hid her secret projects; gadgets and little machines snuck in from Precursor ruins.

Keira said nothing as he glanced around, only grabbed a red bundle of cloth - and the small bronze object drowning in it - from her desk.

"Here," she said, extending both to Jak, "These are for you."

Jak set down his pack and took them. He peered at both this way and that. The red cloth was round like a silk loop. However, the patterns in it looked familiar, and when he rubbed a thumb over it, Jak instantly realized what it was.

"Is this…?"

Keira looked to the floor, "When Samos found out what had happened after I dragged you back, he took it and tried to burn it. I… salvaged what I could. And I thought, with what I've heard about how cold the northern cities can get, a cowl would be more useful, anyways. Try the sword, too."

"The sword?"

Keira took the bronze object from him. She took a few steps back, held the object away from them, and pressed on a discreet button on its side. Jak gawked as a blade extended from what he now realized was the handle. She handed it back over, and he weighed it in both palms. It was light and beautiful, its edge gleaming sharp, its length almost as long as he was tall.

"How did you even make this?"

"Modified brassbeetle arm. I thought, if they can cut through thick trunks, they might work well against… other things. I broke it into segments, made a handle out of an old Precursor pipe, loaded them in there on a pressure released spring, made sure they were aligned to snap into one, then snap apart and spring back in when the button is pressed again. Simple enough. Only took me one night to make, too."

Jak's breath caught in his throat. He didn't know what to say, either to the fact that Samos had been that angry or that Keira had toiled all night to make the cowl and sword for him. He looked up. Bags lined her eyes, her smile was thin, and her hands – which she was now trying to tuck into her crossed arms – were covered with cuts and scrapes.

"Keira… I don't deserve these. You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to. Up north, their weapons are a lot better, but until then, that will keep you safe. Look, Jak, I know Samos is mad, but I don't blame you for going into that ruin. I would have done the same. And… I'm sorry about what happened."

He didn't realize he'd dropped both the sword and cowl until after he'd already drawn her into a hug and heard it clatter against the floor. He held her as tightly as he could, knowing she was the last shred of his old life he could hang onto before he'd be forced to let go.

She squeezed him back, and the fear eating away at him faded; a light turning shadows to dull grays. He realized how glad he was for her. For all the adventures into the woods, late nights telling stories by the dying hearth, and pranks played on the other villagers they'd shared.

For someone with a life as filled with ridicule and scorn as his, she'd been his refuge – his shield – against that storm. Even now when he was at his lowest, and possibly most dangerous, she was there, pushing the darkness away like she always had.

"What am I going to do without you?" Jak asked, pretending his eyes weren't growing glassy again.

"You'll have to find some other sucker to serve as your common sense," she answered, and they both chuckled.

They stayed that way for a while. Finally, as they heard the echoes of gulls cawing beyond the passage to her workshop, Keira drew herself free. He held onto her hands, channeled enough eco to heal her cuts, then let go.

"Thanks," she said, picked up the sword and cowl he'd dropped, retracted the blade, handed it to him, and wrapped the cowl around his neck, "Now take your crap and get out of here, you big sap."

"Feisty to the end, aren't you?"

"You're not the only one that learned from Samos."

They laughed as they left the workshop, though their voices soon died in the dawn's stirring wind. The sun hadn't yet lanced the pale horizon. Jak turned to her and smiled.

"I'll come back if I can, you know?"

She smiled back, "I know."

"And tell Samos I'm sorry."

"He knows."

Jak nodded, "I suppose he does."

There hung a silence between them; the one that always follows before two people part. Then, without a word, Jak nodded again and turned, throwing his hood up over his head. He wanted her to remember him as her grinning friend that could face her, not the broken stranger that now walked away, hiding his guilty frown and watery eyes in the shadow of a hood.

As he skirted the village's edge, he kept asking himself what he'd done, what he was doing, and what he was going to do. This journey didn't begin like they always did in the old myths. There was no certainty, no dawning day lighting the path before him, and no gods watching. There was only fear, a dark dirt road, and distant mountains like sharp, turned backs ahead. He passed all the huts, the little bridge he'd always fished from as a child, and shied away from the rice paddies at Sandover's farthest edge, their still waters too reflective.

Jak trudged on in silence for hours, training his focus on dampening the dread - and burning - in his chest. At noon, he settled on a beachside ridge some ways from Sandover. His sage's tunic and freshly cut hair fed a small fire beside him, green and gold withering in the orange, and he watched smoke rise from the village.

He was now dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... that chapter was painful to write. Hope you all liked it. :) Sorry it was a little later in the week than usual! I usually like to update Mondays, but some weeks I may push to Wednesday instead. 
> 
> Thanks to lovedbyshadows for the kudos and bookmark, and Zeke and Z218 for leaving comments! Also to all my readers thus far. You all are the best. :D


	6. Chapter 4: Three Broken Rules

_Jak and Daxter: Legacy_

_Chapter 4: Three Broken Rules_

The first two days had been hell. Jak, who'd opted to take the less-traveled road between Sandover and Jadecrest, shuddered as he walked through the morning mist. It hung steady in the air, dampening his clothes, the endless trees above weeping dew onto his hooded head. Great green eco crystals poked up from the earth, their light forming lime patches in the silver fog.

As Samos had instructed, Jak had rested away from the path each eve, though it was so overgrown he always feared he might not find his way back. Both nights, a storm had hammered his poorly-pitched leather tent while wolfadgers howled in the distance. As he'd laid there, his dark mark prickling with fear, rain washing blood from his blistered feet, he'd wondered if Samos and Keira were still close enough to hear them, too.

He continued up the path, remembering how the caravans who'd traveled to Sandover seemed so well-rested and calm. How could they could stand it? Pure exposure, he surmised, something he – the sheltered sage's apprentice who resembled a lost child with the way he stumbled over stones and tottered over rain-carved ruts in the dirt – sorely lacked.

They had numbers, a warm wagon, and the reassurance of familiar voices. He had himself, aching legs, and the heavy silence of one who journeys because he must, not because he can.

Ahead, Jak caught sight of little stripes of umber between the trees. As he neared, the trees grew sparser, and mouthwatering smoke and buildings thicker. He drew out his map. It wasn't Jadecrest, perhaps one of the nameless dots of civilization sprinkled across the parchment nearby? Either way, he'd never been there nor heard of it. When he saw that the people hurrying between huts were dressed in browns, tans, and whites instead of greens, he knew why.

Samos had taught him the customs of the other tribes, but the tribeless – who they called the Unwise for their lack of ruling sages – were a great mystery to him. There were many such villages across Nadoa, but they tended to keep to themselves. The eco tribals weren't allowed to intermingle with such "heathens", and the Unwise didn't care. Colors stayed with colors. Non-colors stayed with non-colors. An unspoken, peaceful pact that had endured for centuries, though Jak knew not all the tribes were so kind to their neighbors as his was.

Jak hid behind a thick, gnarled trunk, raised his face to the gray sky, and stole a deep breath from the foggy air.

_They're just people. Remember the rules you made, that's all_ , Jak reassured himself, _One, hide the wound. Two, don't answer questions. Three, no eco. Just buy some food, walk on through, and-_

"Don't budge."

Jak felt the cold, sharp scrape of an arrowhead at his temple. He glanced right. At the other end of the long bamboo shaft glared a brown eye above fingers, the pinky teasing a bowstring as the others held it strong.

"No trouble," Jak blurted, raising his arms, "I don't want any trouble-"

"That's what the bandits said before they murdered half our village."

" _Bandits_?"

"Your friends, I'm sure."

Jak tried to think quick. He could either take her on, run, or try to appease her and hope she'd believe his innocence. He remembered the way he'd used his new sword the day before. Or, rather, how he'd flailed it around and pretended he knew what he was doing as he hacked away at bushes.

There also was the dagger on his belt, though he didn't know if he could bring himself to actually stab her. At the very least, he could heal her afterwards to make up for it, right?

_Precursors, I'm shit at this_ , he thought.

Worse yet, the dark mark on his chest started to sear. He took a few deep breaths. Kill the fear or kill the girl. He pleaded – begged it – to die down. He just wanted to buy some yakow jerky today, not murder someone.

"Look, I have two weapons on me. There's a dagger under my belt and a retractable sword in my pocket. Take them, I don't care."

"And what will happen in the split second I lower my arrow to grab them?"

"I'll… probably piss my pants in relief?"

She let out a chuckle and quickly dropped her weapon. Jak was about to let out a held breath and bow his head in greeting and thanks, but she took her arrow and pressed its sharp edge against his throat. He swallowed hard as the dark eco mark started to hurt again. She wrapped her bow around herself and took both weapons from his belt and pocket with her free hand, then pulled the arrow back.

As she inspected them, Jak – his back still against the tree and arms still up – inspected her. Like most Unwise, she had short hair of a muted color, which looked dust brown in this light. She wore simple pants and a leather and animal fur smock with a plain shirt beneath, though there was one thing she had that both the Unwise and tribals shared: shoeless feet, bare save for some meager leather wrappings.

She pressed the sword handle's button and grinned as the blade clicked out into full length, "Nice. Where'd you get it?"

"Friend made it," Jak answered, "Modified brassbeetle arm."

"Brassbeetle? Never thought those relics'd be good for anything but cutting weeds. Kinda ugly for bots, too. Here."

Jak caught the sword after she'd retracted and tossed it. She handed him his dagger as well, then started to walk back to the town. He stared after her, mouth ajar. Just a minute ago, she was pressing an arrow's tip to his throat. Now she was just letting him go?

"You're quick to trust. Not that I'm complaining."

"And you're clearly no threat," she said over her shoulder, "You're free to pass. Just try not to gawk at all the wounded bodies, okay?"

Jak furrowed his brows and glanced at the ground in confusion, then pocketed his sword and jogged to catch up to her. They walked side-by-side, though she looked far less invested in the coming conversation than he was, her eyes and stride straight, Jak's gait sideways and stumbling.

"So how can you tell I'm no threat? Far as you know, I'm a cold-blooded killer."

" _You_?" the young woman failed to stifle a laugh, "Your feet are bleeding, you're honest to a fault, and you've got the wide-eyed look of someone who'd cry the moment blades were drawn."

Jak opened his mouth to argue.

"No, I can tell. You're one of the tribals, aren't you? Too busy staying safe on the coasts and getting your booboos healed by a sage to have ever wandered far from home. And no one gets blisters that bad on their feet unless all they've ever walked on is soft grass and sand."

" _Booboos_? I'll have you know that we – _they –_ heal worse things than booboos."

"Like what? What's the worst thing you've ever seen?"

Jak pursed his lips in thought, "Well, one guy cut himself with a sickle-"

The woman burst into laughter again. Jak's cheeks flared red, though he was glad that his embarrassment seemed to be dampening both his fear and the dark mark's burning. She still strode straight, but now turned her head to Jak when she spoke.

"You know, you don't look like one, though. Your hair doesn't look like greasy seaweed, I mean. And your eyes… sure you're not one of the blue peoples?"

"I'm a little bit of everything, I guess," Jak answered quietly, remembering his second rule for himself, though he felt a little stung at the "seaweed" comment despite the fact that he – with his strange blond… spikes, he supposed he'd call them, now that he'd hacked them short – had never had hair like that.

"That the reason you left?"

"What?"

"I've heard your people can be a little… exclusive."

Jak smiled bitterly, "That's one way to put it."

"Well, here in Kunino, we don't care. Spend money, don't pillage, you're good. And like I said, don't mind the wounded. We're still recuperating from the attack."

"Do you…?" he paused, reminding himself of his third rule, but found his mouth uttering the question anyways as if by instinct, "Do you need any help?"

"I'd ask you to run back and get your tribe to spare a sage, but we've already tried ourselves. Both Samos and Chios ignored our messengers the last time this happened."

"They did?"

The young woman narrowed her eyes, "We weren't surprised, but still."

Before Jak could ask anything more – even her name – she walked off towards a similarly dressed man outside one of the larger buildings, leaving Jak alone by the simple wooden gate. He reached for his own bow when Jak took a few steps forward. She muttered something to him and gestured towards Jak. His hand fell back to his side, although clenched.

Kunino didn't look much different than Sandover. All the huts shared the steeply sloped gables and open windows, and even the little bridge over the stream reminded Jak of home. A long, straight path – churned to mud by rain and worried feet – stretched through Kunino's center to a great pine, which Jak now realized had arrows sticking from it.

He walked down the middle, eyes widening the more he ventured. The woman hadn't lied; he saw more arrow shafts sticking from the mud, from windowsills, and even one from the bucket over the well. Blood stained staircases and walkways; little hints of red peeking from the gloom. He wondered just how many had been wounded when he heard the moaning.

It came from a building to his left. He glanced back and found that the woman and her antsy friend were looking the other way, pointing towards the forest, perhaps recalling where the bandits had descended from. Jak hurried up to a window and peeked inside while their backs were turned.

He froze. Body after body lined the floor. He counted twenty, maybe more, with some even piled up in bandaged stacks at the back; likely the dead. The few healthy people attending them raced between each. Jak saw their trembling fingers. Their shell-shocked stares. Their frenzied, desperate attempts to mix what looked like herbal salves.

And the red. There was so much red. Spills of it on the wooden floor. Little grins of it peeking from between bandages. Gloves of it on the helpers' hands as they tried in vain to stop burbling wounds.

He'd heard tales of bandits from travelers, but he'd never seen just how much devastation they could wreak. Jak tightened his grip on the pack strap that crossed his chest. The woman had said this had happened before and they'd asked the nearby sages for aid, but Samos had never told Jak about it. Why? Why couldn't he have sent Jak along to help?

The whole thing made his gut clench with guilt. If Samos had only told him… In fact, now that Jak thought about it, Samos never let him go anywhere beyond Sandover without him. Even when they traveled to Jadecrest on occasion to meet with their sage, Samos never let him go to explore the town by himself, no matter how much he'd begged. He'd let Keira travel alone before, though.

Now that Jak had finally tasted freedom, he only now realized he'd never had it. But why? And if Samos was afraid of letting Jak free, why had he so easily told him to leave after the incident in the ruins?

Even worse, Samos had ignored people in need. The thought made Jak's blood boil. He supposed it would have looked bad to the other villagers, however. These people were the Unwise, and his tribe would have rioted had Samos answered their pleas. 'Unholy', they would have called it. 'Just asking for the gods' anger', others would claim.

_A lot of things Samos did was because of how it appeared to the others,_ Jak thought, biting his lip, _Even tossing me out and telling them I'd died. Did he… did he even love me? Or was keeping me a calculated move, too? He didn't even wake early to say goodbye when I left._

"Grim sight, huh?"

Jak flinched back into the present. The short-haired woman was next to him, staring.

"Oh, sorry! I just-"

"Wanted to see just how bad it is? Well, there's your answer."

"Did… did the sages really ignore your messages?"

She crossed her arms and sighed, likely not wanting to say anything more negative about his people.

"They did, didn't they?" Jak looked to the ground, "Sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Hey, I get it. We don't pay homage to them, we don't live under their rules, and their people don't like us."

"Still. We were taught that green eco was given to us by the Precursors because we were the kindest. That they knew we'd share it with their other creations. But I suppose…"

"You kinda hog it?"

"Yeah, that."

It was silent between them for a long while. Jak remembered the day Samos had told him that; it was the first day Samos had started training him after he'd shown some skill with green eco.

" _All eco thrives on certain things, Jak. Red, courage. Blue, excitement. And yellow, on happiness."_

" _What about green? Green's gotta be luck, isn't it? O-or maybe life? 'Cause you heal stuff with it, you know?"_

The sage had sighed and handed him a seed. Jak thought about how cliché it seemed in retrospect, but the point Samos had made with it made perfect, humbling sense to him as a six-year-old.

" _Do you know what this is, Jak?"_

" _It's a seed, duh!"_

" _And what do you do with seeds?"_

" _I dunno… sometimes I throw some at the seagulls. They love them a lot! I think they taste kinda gross, but I'm glad someone likes-"_

" _What do people_ _ **usually**_ _do with seeds, Jak?"_

" _Uh… plant 'em?"_

" _Indeed. And that one in particular is from an elder cedar. Elder cedars take over a thousand years to grow to full height."_

" _Wow! So, they're like as old as you?"_

When Samos had said nothing, only raised his brow, Jak remembered how his younger self had drooped his head and mumbled an apology.

" _But why do people plant them, then? It probably won't even sprout from the ground while they're alive! So what's the point?"_

" _Tell me this, Jak: why are you always giving people gifts?"_

" _Me!? Well… the seagulls really like seeds because they think they're tasty. I get you flowers because I know they make our house look nice. Aaaaannnd Keira likes hugs and little pieces of machines I've found in the fields. Because she's a girl, I guess? I don't know."_

" _Precisely! That, my boy, is the point I'm trying to make: green eco thrives on generosity. The willingness to give without expecting return. Or, in this case, the ability to plant a tree under whose shade only the distantly born may bask in."_

"Hey, uh…?"

"Sepsu."

What Jak was about to say went against everything his culture had drilled into his head about interacting with the tribeless, and against his second rule he'd set for himself. He was also going against Samos' warnings, but the new idea brewing in his head made him smile. It gave him a jolt of giddiness as he realized something:

_He can't control me anymore. I'm free. He cast me out, just like the others always wanted him to, and I'm free._

Jak tore off his hood and said, "Sepsu, can you keep a secret?"

* * *

Twenty-two. Twenty-two patients, and Jak felt ready to collapse when the twenty-third was brought in. Sepsu had set him up in a small room in the back of the temporary infirmary, guarding the doorway as he worked. Every time he healed someone, Sepsu glanced back over her shoulder, as if entranced by the green glow.

One of the attendants stood by his side, a kindly older woman, producing whatever herb he asked for. They were sorely lacking some important ones, but Jak tried to make do with what they had. He even took some of the ointment and herbs Samos had given him from his pack, using them whenever necessary.

_Green eco's all about generosity, right?_ Jak thought, wiping sweat from his forehead with his non-bloody arm, _I'm just doing what you told me to, Samos._

"That should be the last one, Jak," Sepsu said as the other attendants gently slid a middle-aged woman onto the red-stained table before him, "Finish this one, and you're good. Really good, actually."

"Will do," he removed the bandages of the patient before him, saw a deep puncture wound in her shoulder, and turned to the older woman next to him, "Bloodbane, please."

He only had a bit of energy left. He bit his lip in concentration, took in a deep breath, and let the last of it leak from his palm. Thankfully, it was enough to seal most of the wound. The rest he cleaned up with some water, took some of the bloodbane paste the older woman had set next to him, spread it over the wound, and re-bandaged it.

"That should do it," Jak said, then slumped to the floor as the others took her back out to the main room again.

Footsteps neared. Jak still hung his head in exhaustion, only turning it when Sepsu sat down next to him and pulled something from her pocket. His mouth watered at its smell.

"Here," she offered it to him, "Tuberbread. It's good."

He wolfed it down in seconds. Sepsu laughed, then gave him another hunk and offered him her water pouch, which he also greedily accepted. Through the legs of the table before them, Jak could see the building's main windows beyond the doorway. The sun had come out and it looked like the village was alive again, distant voices filling the air, people strolling about.

"We won't tell anyone, you know?"

"No, I know. I trust you."

"Can I ask you a question, though?"

"Shoot."

"Your people usually guard your sages like treasure hoards. So what would possess them to let one go?"

Jak closed his eyes. Did he really want to answer that question? He supposed he'd already broken one of his rules today. Why not two?

"They think I'm dead."

Sepsu's brown eyes widened, "Dead?"

"Yep."

"But why?"

"I…" he scratched the back of his sweaty head, "I made a mistake. One so bad that I had to run, otherwise they'd have thrown me out."

Sepsu stiffened, "You… you didn't hurt anyone, did you?"

"Hurt someone? Precursors, _no_. No, I just went sticking my idiot head into some ruins."

"Oh," she settled her back against the wall again, "Yeah, I've heard your people are a little touchy about that."

"Just a bit. How about you? What's your life story?"

Sepsu chuckled, then brushed her hair behind an ear, "Well… my father's the local lord. Kind of like one of your sages, but without the neat magic part. He and what few warriors we had were called up north by one of our sister villages; a little place called Nagu. They've been having issues up there with some creatures."

"Creatures?"

"Have you ever heard of Metal Heads before?"

Jak shook his head.

"They typically stick to the Wastelands in the far north, but recently they've been starting to hit some of the towns, tribal or not. I mean, they're everywhere beyond the mountains, but even then you only find them in great nests deep underground."

"What do they look like?"

"From the letters my father got from his brother in Nagu, they're terrifying. Dark blue, slimy skin, skin plates made of steel, and these creepy yellow eyes that glow in the shadows. You think wolfadgers are bad? Metal Heads would use them as toothpicks. And they're smart, too. I got stuck behind to look after the town. Problem is, the bandits found out we're defenseless for the time being. Assholes."

"Well," Jak nodded, not sure how to process the fact that he was headed straight in the direction of said monsters, "Let's hope they go back to wherever they came from. Both the Metal Heads and bandits, I mean."

"Is that where you're headed? North?"

"Yeah, it is."

They sat in grim silence once more. Finally, after a long while, Sepsu stood.

"Stop by the merchant's just across from the well. I'll have Mata there prepare a payment for you."

Jak shook his head and started to get up, "You don't need-"

"You're traveling, are you not? You can't journey on an empty stomach, and we repay kindness here."

"No, really. Sepsu, I don't need-"

Jak stopped just before his hand reached her shoulder. She had frozen in place. He tried to step in front of her; to look into her face and ask her what was wrong, but she shoved him away.

"Hey, what the hell is-!"

" _Stay back!_ " she hissed.

Jak only stared as she claimed the other side of the wall of the doorway, peeking around its edge, then popping back, then peeking out again. Jak raised a brow. What had gotten into her? He was only trying to-

An arrow whistled by his face and struck the back wall, its tip alive with orange.

Ten more rained into the building, setting the discarded bandages, wood, blood – all of it – aflame. Sepsu grabbed Jak by the arm and pulled him through the growing fires, back into another room that had a door leading outside. They ducked through it, fell to a crouch, followed the building's perimeter, and then peered around the edge.

The first wave of attackers were already shooting fire arrows at every building they could. The second came like a river of oil down the hillside, their forms black as the sunset fell behind them, their raised daggers and swords agleam. They descended on the village like crows on a carcass, picking things from here, ripping things from there. Jak watched in horror as many of the people he'd just healed fell to the ground, the arrows in their backs like a porcupine's quills. Others were stabbed. Some were kept alive and screaming, likely for personal use later on.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy sh-"

Jak's words sputtered to a stop as Sepsu rose, a brave outline above him, her bow already nocked and ready. One arrow. Two. The first sailed right into a man's chest, knocking him over cold. The second, into a woman's eye.

Like eerie puppets controlled by the same strings, the bandits still standing farther off turned to them. The one leading them pointed to some of her men, then pointed to Jak and Sepsu while the rest scattered. They charged forth. Sepsu was able to fell two, but three others still raged forward, not bothered in the slightest by their screeching, dying comrades.

"Jak, sword!"

He stumbled to his feet and took the sword from his pocket, handling it as gracefully as he would a butter stick. Was he really doing this? Could he do this? Why did his hands keep slipping? There was another click of a nocked arrow. A whistling. A heavy thump of body to ground.

Sepsu jumped on one of the two remaining, dagger drawn and teasing the man's throat. His buddy, a heavy looking guy with a tattered fur cloak, tackled Jak and pinned him against the wall.

All Jak knew was the crushing arm at his chest, the flash of steel in red light, and the cold kiss of a blade tip twirling at his stomach as the man decided which way to gut him. Without thinking, Jak took his sword's handle, held it before the man's own belly, and slammed the button as hard as he could.

Hot blood. The vibration of shattering bones, traveling down the blade's extending form. The _plink_ of a dagger falling fast to the ground. The man lurched, gasped, and swayed, taking Jak down with him as he fell and shuddered and died.

Jak rolled over off his body and laid there, staring at the pink sky. He'd just killed someone, hadn't he? He'd _killed_ someone. The dark eco mark, which had been burning before, now seared as he fell into a shocked panic.

He'd killed someone. He'd killed someone. He'd killed-

"Jak, are you okay?"

It was Sepsu's voice, though Jak could barely hear her above his own heartbeat and the roar of fighting not far. She leaned down to look at him, but soon was distracted by more bandits incoming. She tried to fight them off, vicious and elegant and quick, while he just laid there, crumpled into a ball, waiting for time to run out.

One second. Thundering heart.

Two. Tensing muscles.

Three. Blacking out as his eyes opened wide.

It was strange, being in the dark place. It was a lot like falling asleep, though he was still able to hear and feel everything around him. He sensed his hands taking the bloody sword's grip and jerking it free from the man's body. He felt the prickle of pine needles at his feet as he ran. A stab here. A slice there. Some choking. And there was screaming, of course, the sound of which made his stomach churn even as he caused more of it.

Who he was cutting down or how many, he didn't know. All he knew was that, when he finally awoke, it was in a bed of blood.

Jak gasped, then gritted his teeth as the dark eco traveled back through his veins to his heart. He tottered to his feet, stared around at the carnage, and felt the acidic, bitter taste of bile surging up from his gut.

Only one bandit remained. A man with a scar across his right gray eye, who backed away from Jak like he would a rabid beast. Jak tried to step forward, but the man just turned and ran.

Jak fell to one knee, stabbing his sword into the wet ground to prop himself up. He lowered his head, scrunched his face in burning anguish, trying to breathe all the while.

"Jak?"

It was Sepsu. He froze, refusing to look up and meet her eye even as she neared. She reached to him – either to provide a comforting shoulder squeeze or take him into custody, he didn't know – and he ran, too. He slipped his sword from the ground and dragged it behind, leaving both a line and footprints of blood on the forest floor as he fled from the burning, bloodied town.

Jak only stopped when he found an abandoned shrine quite a few minutes away. He settled next to its mossy, brass form, threw his pack and sword to the ground, and half-collapsed next to the stream that ran by it.

He shakily peered over the edge. He caught sight of himself in the fragments between the reed stalks, overwhelmingly red. He reached into the water, shattering the reflection and obsessively splashing as much as he could onto his face, all over his arms, then pulled back before the water could still and show a clear reflection again.

* * *

It was dark before Jak raised his head from his knees. His wound felt like cold space again. Dare he look at it? He pulled his blood-stained collar out and glanced down. As far as he could tell under the dim moonlight, it was the same size, but Jak noticed that one tendril of its form now poked about an inch further upwards than before.

Samos was right. It _was_ spreading. And he wasn't free, even now as he roamed the world without the sage to hold him back. He was just as much a prisoner now as he'd always been.

"I should have listened. I shouldn't have stopped in that stupid village," he muttered to himself, returning his face to his knees, "Precursors, what did I _do!_?"

The world answered with a brush of breeze through the reeds. He began to shiver as the day's heat fled, giving way to misty, chilly night. Normally, he'd have built a fire and huddled over it, but he wasn't sure he deserved neither the warmth nor light.

" _Your feet are bleeding, you're honest to a fault, and you've got the wide-eyed look of someone who'd cry the moment blades were drawn."_

As Sepsu's words resounded in his head, he wondered what she thought of him now. What had gone through her head as she'd watched him tear through bandit after bandit? Awe? Fear? Horror? Questions like this one rattled through his mind as the night wore on and he fell into an uneasy sleep. One haunted him more than the others: perhaps he really was cursed, like the villagers at home had said?

_Maybe they were right?_

He awoke to a dim sunrise, his body still huddled in the same position. He forced himself to stand and worked through a numb routine. He washed his clothes and sword in the stream, frowning at how easily the blood pulled from them. Then he let them dry in the lukewarm wind, ate what little he thought he could stomach, dressed himself, and headed in the direction of the path beyond Kunino.

He had to keep going. He had to pretend that nothing had happened, even as Kunino's residents woke and cleaned up the mess – the loss - he'd left behind.

_You broke your three rules, you damned idiot_ , he spat at himself as he trudged onto the road, _And you're not going to do it again. Don't be a hero. Just keep your stupid head out of other people's business and keep going._

Still, the thought of intentionally keeping himself away from others hurt. Not only had he had to cut himself from his family, but he couldn't make new friends, either. His heart felt like stone, for he thought he was alone again on this long, foggy path.

But he wasn't. Unbeknownst to Jak, something perched in the trees above, scrabbling from limb to limb as it followed not far behind. Had he felt able to lift his head and look back, he would have thought nothing of it.

After all, only its tail could be seen through the leaves, the orange tip curling with cautious curiosity.

* * *

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I wonder who that could be? :3
> 
> But yeah, another pretty dark chapter! I promise not all of them will be this moody/angsty. When a certain character shows up in two chapters, things will start to get lighter and brighten Jak's world a bit. But right now, he's struggling with some pretty heavy stuff. I definitely always wished in the original trilogy that Naughty Dog's writers had gone further into how the dark eco issue affected Jak, so that's why I'm lingering on it a lot more now.
> 
> He just wanted to be a hero and heal others. Sure, the people he killed were bandits, but for someone as goddamn innocent as Jak is right now, and for someone who spent his whole life trying to save lives, it's pretty rough on him. :(
> 
> Also, thank you to Zeke for reviewing! Your comments are always greatly appreciated, and I'm glad you're liking the story so far. And thanks to those still sticking with the story, as well. As always, you guys are the best for giving this reboot fic a chance. I hope it continues to entertain you while reading it as much as it does for me writing it. :)


	7. Chapter 5: Human Animal, Animal Human

_Jak and Daxter: Legacy_

_Chapter 5: Human Animal, Animal Human_

Jak felt like a ghost among the living as he wandered in the days after Kunino; a shadow passing between shreds of a different world. His own dimension - muffled by a hood, tainted by the scent of ashes and smoke that clung to the cowl he wore over his mouth and nose - seemed as if it played by a different reality's rules. When he'd stopped at stalls in Jadecrest to buy supplies, he'd stared at others and wondered if he, too, had once moved that slowly. What was it like to amble about, smile at the sky, stick your hand from a rickshaw to feel the warm wind rushing past, or to weigh two baskets as you decided which to buy?

All he'd known the past week was moving, breathing, eating, sleeping, and perhaps nodding if greeted or told what something cost. There was no humanity in what he was now, only animalistic instinct and purpose; a bird drawn north because the seasons told it to, burdened by an unconscious knowledge that this direction was right.

That same calling was now leading Jak to a place his map called the "Glass Meadows". For many days, Jade Forest had resembled the woods back home, but as time wore on, all familiarity seeped away. Waves of wooded hills flattened to sparser groves, separated by rocky outcroppings. At times, the rocks loomed so close that Jak felt like he was squeezing through alleys of stone, complete with ivy for store signs and caves for dark windows and doors.

As dusk approached, he found a spot where the rock pulled back from the road and yawned to a cavern mouth, perfect for resting in.

_Or for getting eaten in by whatever horror probably lives there_ , Jak thought, then readjusted the pack on his shoulder and headed towards it anyways, glaring at the gray clouds above, _Better than getting rained on again, though._

He whistled at its mouth and listened. Only echoes answered back. Shrugging, he parted the bushes and clambered down inside.

The only inhabitants seemed to be scalepedes, who skittered their thick, thousand-legged bodies back into their host crevices when Jak summoned eco to light his way. The cave reminded him a little of Samos' hut back home. Vines hung from the roof in whatever cracks they could fit through, and the constant whisper of _drip drip drip_ brought deep memories to his mind.

" _The roof is leaking again, Keira."_

" _The roof is_ _ **always**_ _leaking, Samos."_

Jak mimicked a third voice as he set his pack down and ventured deeper, "You mean to tell me that Keira, Nadoa's greatest brassbeetle fixer, can't fix a simple roof leak?"

" _Shut up, Jak!"_ he could almost feel the brush of a hand playfully push his shoulder, _"What do you do around here, anyways? Oh, that's right… you're the guy people come to when they stub their toes."_

"I do a hell of a lot more than fix stubbed toes," Jak mumbled in the present.

" _Yes, Keira. He has the very important job of healing paper cuts, too."_

Laughter. Even now, months later, Jak's cheeks reddened as the memory's voices echoed in his mind's ear.

" _Don't take it so personally. We're just teasing you, Jak. Hey, someday you'll be leading a village of your own, and where will I be? Mucking about in some cave, gathering scrap to keep things running that should have been junked centuries ago."_

Jak frowned when he realized that he wasn't in a cavern, but an ancient ruin; pipes, rusted metal-scale mosaics, and broken brass figures littered the walls and floor. They once formed what had likely been a beautiful hall, but time and darkness had long devoured their glory.

" _Things can change, Keira,"_ Samos' words resounded as Jak's memory fizzled out, _"Things can change."_

Further back in the hollow, there were some dry sticks bundled together, along with logs and brush perfect for kindling. They – and the blackened patch by a worn Precursor statue in the ruin's front stretch – told Jak that this place must have been a common stop for travelers. Within a few minutes, he'd built a fire on that same patch, set out his blanket in the groove between the statue's bird-like feet, and laid back against a pillow of moss-covered stone. He unfastened his cloak, ran his hands through his freed, sweaty hair, tore his cowl from his mouth, and breathed the first unfiltered, deep breath he'd taken all day.

"You're starting to talk to yourself," he muttered, then readjusted his body so he could watch the fire, "What am I even doing out here, anyways?"

His answer came as a rolling roar of thunder, fierce and sharp. Rain began to hammer the cavern roof.

"And do you do _anything_ besides rain!?"

Another rumble. He let out a long groan.

"I'm gonna turn out like the green sages of old. What did Samos always say they did? Talking to plants and rocks and shit?" he turned to a scraggly vine wrapped around the statue's leg and 'shook' one of its leaves, "Hey, the name's Jakan. Call me Jak. I spend my days trying not to kill people and cursing my entire Precursors-forsaken existence. What do you do in _your_ spare time?"

"Lately? Watching idiots talk to plants."

Jak froze. Did… did it actually _speak_ to him? He let go of the leaf like it was poisonous and shuffled away, half-hidden behind the statue's leg. Then he peeked down his shirt. Samos said the dark eco would eventually turn him insane, but it hadn't acted up in days, and such a thing wasn't supposed to have happened until months - if that - down the road.

But he was certain he'd heard something. He stared all around the ruin. Suddenly, the bushes at the entrance rustled.

"Who's there!?"

No answer. Jak scrambled to his feet and pulled his sword from his belt, the blade already extending. The fronds ceased their wavering. He couldn't tell size or shape, but the voice had been male. He waited a long while, his dark mark burning, his hand shaking as he tried to hold the sword steady.

Taking a deep breath, he readied his blade, rushed forward, whipped the bushes back, and-

It was an animal. Some sort of small mammal, though the exact species Jak had never seen before. It cowered, bushy tail and orange paws shielding its face from whatever horror it thought Jak was about to dish out. Jak glanced around, lowered his sword, then retracted the blade and knelt.

"Sorry there, little guy. Thought someone nasty was about to ruin my day."

It peeked out above its tail fluff, squinting whenever Jak moved his hand forward to try to pet it. Smiling, Jak gently let the bushes back down and settled by the fire again, hoping it'd understand he was no threat.

_Just an animal. That doesn't explain the voice I heard, though._

Jak shrugged. Perhaps he was just tired? Or maybe insanity really was starting to take root in his mind? He pushed the dark thought away by blaming it on his drowsiness, leaned back, and watched the bush. The creature still hadn't emerged. Perhaps it just wanted to stay dry? He couldn't blame it, what with the way the storm outside sounded. He searched his pack, brought out the yakow jerky he'd bought back in Jadecrest, and started chewing on a piece as he pondered what it might be. A ferret? A fox? A weasel of some sort?

Another rustle. The animal clawed out from the bush and took tender pawsteps across the ruin, pausing every few to glance at Jak. It stopped just outside the fire's reach and stared blankly at him, head cocked, eyes reflective in the dark.

"What?"

Its nose twitched. Then it licked its lips.

"I saw plenty of grubs further back in the cave," Jak jerked his thumb in that direction, "Help yourself."

It gave a whine.

Jak sighed, pulled out a smaller hunk of jerky, and tossed it over the fire. The creature caught it in its mouth and started gnawing away.

"There. Now leave me alone."

He stuffed his jerky stash in his pack, tied the bag tight, and turned his back to both the animal and flames, trying to block them both out with his blanket. Not that it could do him any harm, but he hoped that it would take the hint. He didn't need another mouth to feed.

Something started scratching at his pack.

Jak twisted around and swiped at the animal, "Hey, I thought I told you to get lost!?"

It scrambled back, then came at the pack again as Jak settled down once more. It swiped another jerky strip before Jak could pull the bag behind him. Jak tried to grab it back, but the creature skittered away and downed the strip in a few bites. Two little blue eyes stared at him.

If it'd been human, he might even say they'd been squinting with delight.

"You're a bold little shit, aren't you?"

It swallowed its last nibble, rocked onto its back haunches, picked its teeth with a claw, then spat, "And you're a selfish prick. So what?"

Jak screeched. The creature covered its ears and hissed. Jak clamped his hands over his mouth, though it was more a failed attempt to calm himself than to prevent further embarrassment.

"Yeesh, you scare easily, kid! You just about ruptured every eardrum from here to Klawwvak!"

Jak backed against the wall and stared in horror. A weasel. Talking? A talking weasel. Even worse, one that _kept_ talking. He really _was_ going insane, wasn't he? First the plant, then this… _thing_. What next? What, would he hear rocks talk, too? He rubbed his ears from base to sharp tip, then his eyes. When he opened them again, the freak of nature was still there, staring up at him as if _he_ were the weirdest thing in that ruin.

"What's the matter?"

"What's…? What's the _matter_?" Jak squeaked out.

"Yeah?"

"You're… uh… you're a t-talking… well-"

"A talking ottsel? Why, yes I am. Good brain you've got there, bigfoot! The way you were chatting with that plant a few minutes ago, I thought you might not have one."

Jak's eye twitched. Twice. He didn't know what think, much less say, even as the creature – or ottsel, he supposed – sauntered forward on two legs and sat human-like by the fire, wiggling its toes to warm them.

"Look, I just need a place to sleep for the night. You know, to keep my fur dry, take a snooze. Let me crash here, maybe share a little more of your food, and I'll be out of your hair by morning. Sound fair?"

When Jak didn't respond, only felt his eye twitch a third time, the ottsel grinned.

"I'll take that as a yes!"

"Wait, I didn't say-"

The creature pounced forward and started rifling through Jak's pack. His clothes, food, and personal belongings were torn out in a spray of colors. The ottsel grabbed more jerky, dried moonfruit, Jak's water pouch, and one of Jak's shirts from the messy pile. Then he gathered them around him like a small orange dragon hugging its treasure hoard, complete with a toothy, greedy grin. Jak slumped to the ground, wordless as the ottsel devoured his food, drank all his water, and turned his shirt into a makeshift nest, complete with bits of moss, dirt, and sticks.

"Hope you don't mind if I use this. Ahhhh!" the ottsel let out a squeaky yawn and stretched, "It's been a while since anyone's let me hang with them."

Jak stopped patting his eco wound as if it were a button that could turn this madness off. Defeated by reality, he muttered, "Can't… imagine why?"

"I know, right? And you're the first that hasn't come at me with torches and pitchforks. Let me tell ya: people around here? Superstitious as all hell! They see one talking animal and start screaming about demons and 'kill it with fire's and… yeah, they don't like things they ain't used to."

When Jak didn't answer, the ottsel continued, "'Course, I'm preaching to the choir here, aren't I? I bet they don't like you much, either. You're not the most chipper kind of guy. Kinda weird lookin', too."

Irritation – the first emotion Jak had felt in minutes besides shock – burned in his gut.

"Ah, don't look so sour, kid. You seem all right to me. Anyways, I s'pose you're tired, and I know _I'm_ tired. So… good night, I guess?"

Jak's furrowed his brows as the ottsel curled into a ball and fell fast asleep. Then he took a deep breath and sighed.

_You know what? I'm just going to let this go. Let the stupid thing sleep here for the night, kick its ass out in the morning, and be on your merry way. And if you're lucky, you'll realize this was all a stupid dream when you wake up… and everything will be back to normal._

* * *

When he awoke the next morning, things were too normal. In fact, it seemed as if the ottsel hadn't been there at all. Jak's belongings were neatly packed away, his water pouch had been refilled, and the fire now gnawed on a new log. He'd have believed it was all a dream if not for the little pawprints leading towards the entrance, their wet edges glistening in the early sun that streamed in through cracks in the roof.

_Well, he was true to his word, at least,_ Jak thought with a smile as he reached into his bag to grab breakfast, _Talking animal or not, maybe he wasn't so bad after all-_

His smile melted. He rummaged through his pack some more, noticing that, yes, the moonfruit was still there, as was his rice bag, money, and clothes. However, there was a distinct lack of jerky. He frantically dumped everything out, then dropped the pack and slapped his palm over his eyes as realization hit him.

_I swear to the Precursors, if I ever see that little shit ever again…_

Jak followed his normal morning routine, albeit with a face more sour than usual: check the dark mark, dress in fresh clothes, stoke the fire, cook some rice with a small pot he'd bought, eat, drink, wash, pack up, and crawl out of whatever crevice he'd slept in.

He felt like some hellish beast when he emerged from the cave, almost cowering like he hadn't seen light in years as he headed back to the road. The sun was especially bright that day. Normally, he'd have been thankful for the break in gray clouds and wet, but his own personal storm followed him down the path.

"Stupid weasel," he grumbled, putting his hood back up and the cowl over his mouth again.

The land wove steep and sharp a few miles down the road. At first, he heard a distant thrumming, then the roar of waves soon brushed Jak's ears. He peered through the trees to his right. Sea glittered beyond their trunks. For a moment, he forgot the mud pulling on his feet and the morning mist that had kissed his face numb, and his trudging turned into a jog. Jak rounded the final turn and found an open cliff.

He stumbled to the edge and stared, head sweeping from coast to horizon to take in the great blue nothing he knew so well and missed so much. He leaned against a gnarled cliffside tree, closed his eyes, and lost himself in its unceasing song. Besides getting his jerky stolen, perhaps this day wouldn't turn out so bad? If he was at the sea, the Glass Meadows weren't too far ahead. He was making good time, and surely would reach the next village before nightfall.

Then he heard squealing.

He twisted around and stared at the road. A great silence followed, but Jak still slipped his hand onto his sword where it was tucked in his belt. The waves' sound pulled on his left ear, urging him to ignore the commotion.

Another screech. Then howls, piercing and angry.

_Wolfadgers_ , Jak thought and raced back to the road, _That can't be good._

Jak slid behind some brush when he caught sight of three black and white striped heads. He waited, breathless and still, praying to the Precursors that the beasts hadn't heard him.

No growls. No nearing steps. He unsheathed his sword, rose to a stiff kneel, parted the brush, and peered over the roadside hill.

They stalked the gully below, their paws leaving massive, glistening prints in the silt. They were circling something that dangled from the trees. A bark ball on a rope. It swung back and forth, turning the opposite direction whenever one neared. Jak thought it was a trap of some sort, likely for small animals. It would explain the squealing he'd heard before the howls; perhaps something was caught inside?

Pity nibbled his gut. The poor thing was going to get ripped apart if he didn't intervene. But did he really want to go up against a wolfadger, never mind _three_? He swallowed hard as he glanced at their claws, swishing tails, and fangs. The farmers back home always cursed the beasts, for wolfadgers had two favorite foods: yakows and people.

And by the time the wolfadgers were done with them, they didn't look like yakows or people anymore.

Jak sheathed his sword and started to sneak away. He felt bad, but the only thing that could convince him to turn around was-

"Piss off, will ya!?"

He rushed to the ridge once more, blade already redrawn. That voice came from no stranger. Jak saw the bushy orange tail peeking from the trap and didn't know whether to feel guilty or grimace. Feel guilty, because he was even more tempted to leave him there. Grimace, because it was that same damn weasel – or ottsel, Jak supposed - who'd stolen his jerky the night before.

"When I get out of here, I _swear_ … well, let's just say I hope you three don't mind turning into fur rugs, is all!"

Jak ignored his heart's thundering for a moment and wondered, _Am I really going to stick my neck out for this idiot?_

"You hear that? I'm gonna make you three into the ugliest rugs you've ever seen. No, scratch that. _Welcome mats_."

One of the wolfadgers - not caring what its snack had to say - batted at the trap, sending the ottsel into another screeching frenzy. Jak glanced around. There had to be some way of getting them away from the ottsel without turning himself into lunch. Barely pausing to think, the trap now dangling by a bare thread from their repeated attacks, he picked up a hefty rock and tossed it, hoping it'd land far enough to steal their attention and send them running.

It struck one square in the face.

"Oh _shi_ -!"

They were over the hill in seconds. Jak dodged one. Then another, but this time he was sent tumbling. He pulled on his sword, now heavy with mud, rolled to face them, and swung with all his might when a great shadow blocked out the sun.

Dirt and blood fanned into the air. The wolfadger fell to the ground beside him with a sickening thump, its belly oozing crimson. Jak scarcely could celebrate – or puke - before another lunged.

He saw the next moments as little details: black eyes, coarse fur, hellishly warm and musky breath, sharp points in his left arm, boiling anger, a fire sparking in his chest…

And then nothing.

He came to what seemed a few minutes later, not as a wolfadger's meal gurgling his last breaths, but as a killer standing and gasping above a circle of growing red and dead beasts. His dark eco wound seared beneath his shirt. He clutched it, begging it to die down, only pausing to think about what had happened when it finally dimmed.

_I turned again, didn't I?_ Jak bit his lip and stared at the dead wolfadgers surrounding like some ritual sacrifice, then at the blood dripping from his sword. _I_ _ **did**_ _. And it's getting worse._

The other times, he'd been at least vaguely aware of what was happening. But this time he'd just blinked out and awoke to a nightmare. Sure, it'd saved his life, but he'd sworn since the Kunino incident that he'd never give in again.

" _Fuck,"_ he cursed beneath his breath, "Precursors _**damn**_ - _"_

"Hey, you okay!?"

The ottsel. Jak's heart skipped. Had he seen him? He stepped over one of the wolfadgers, wiped his sword on the grass in nauseated disgust, and peered over the ridge. He saw a paw waving from the trap.

"I can't get out of this myself, you know!"

Jak narrowed his eyes. First the jerky, now dark eco induced carnage. This little rat owed him. _Big_ time.

He slid down through rocks and brush to the gully. The ottsel grinned, then dropped his little jaw in horror. Whether it was because he recognized Jak as the sucker he'd stolen from, or because Jak looked like he'd just crawled from a fresh battlefield, Jak wasn't sure, nor cared. He sliced the rope with a curt sword swipe and let the trap bounce onto the dirt.

The ottsel crawled out, shaking his head, "You ever heard of letting someone down _gently_?"

Jak sheathed his sword and started to walk away.

"Hey, hey! Why are you leaving? I haven't even thanked you yet." the ottsel tugged at Jak's pant leg. "And you look like you're about ready to take a nap in a grave, buddy. I don't even know how you're still walking!"

"What?"

"Your arm?"

Jak glanced down at his left bicep, not knowing how he hadn't realized it was that bad. Four punctures oozed from it through his white sleeve, not to mention the scratches down to his wrists on both arms. For some reason, it didn't hurt much. Was that another side effect of his poisoning?

The thought soaked him in cold fear.

"And you look a little pale, too. At least stay and rest for a bit?"

"Why? What else are you planning on stealing?"

The ottsel tried an innocent, toothy smile.

"Don't think I didn't notice."

The ottsel sighed. "Look, why do you think I got caught in this trap in the first place?"

"Because you're a thieving little weasel?"

" _Ottsel_. And there were berries in it," he turned back to the trap and pulled out a handful, then continued speaking through mushy mouthfuls, "You live out here, you gotta find food to eat. Sometimes that food don't belong to you. Besides, that was the only time I've ever stolen anything. I wouldn't have done it if I weren't desperate. Especially for _that_ jerky. What the hell kind of gross meat was that shit made of, anyways?"

Jak wasn't sure if he wanted to kick him or just keep walking, but found that the ottsel was making some sense. He had to patch himself up, and he supposed the ottsel wouldn't just leave him alone.

He sighed and nodded, "Fine."

* * *

They followed the ravine until it widened and spilled down in a tumble of small waterfalls. Jak settled in a sunny patch next to the water and chose a smooth stone for a seat. The ottsel didn't say much – for once – but Jak could tell he was antsy with questions.

Finally, after taking a drink from the stream, the ottsel dared speak, the water on his whiskers glistening as he did so.

"So, where'd you learn to fight like that?"

Jak stared at the ottsel with a raised brow, then returned his attention to finding the bandages in his dirt-stained pack.

"What? It was impressive! I couldn't see much, but _man_ ," the ottsel shook his head in disbelief, "Those wolfadgers sounded like terrified little pups, that's for sure."

"Not as impressive as an annoying talking animal," Jak found a bundle of cloth scraps and pulled them out, "How about we play a game? I don't ask you questions about why the hell you can speak, and you don't ask _me_ questions about anything that just happened. Fair?"

Silence. Jak took it as if his point had come across clear enough.

Then, "Are you some kind of soldier or something? You with one of the green tribes? Nah, they don't fight much," he glanced at Jak's hair, then his eyes, "Maybe yellow? Blue? I mean, it was just so awesome! Like I said, I didn't see anything from my vantage point, but with the way you screamed when we first met, I thought you were a real wimp. But then _that_ happened and… you know what? Remind me not to piss _you_ off, is all I'm saying."

"Too late."

The ottsel's whiskers drooped.

Jak got up and slipped his arm into the waterfall. The water ran cold and soothing over his wounds, which now stung more than before as the dark eco's effects wore off. He distracted himself by watching the ottsel.

_How in the hell can he talk, anyway? Maybe I really am going insane? I mean, just look at him!_

At first, it had been grooming its tail, but then started batting at a butterfly that floated past like some bored cat. Jak couldn't quite place the ottsel's mannerisms. The way he spoke, how his facial expressions moved, and the understanding in his eyes seemed uncannily human. Then within an instant, it'd switch to something animal and its gaze would grow dumb.

He realized he'd felt the same. Just dully gazing on as he'd traveled miles untold, thriving on instinct, his existence punctuated with sudden flashes of human reflection. Then back to animal again. Moving, breathing, eating, and sleeping. Rinse, recycle, repeat.

_Who am I kidding? There's nothing similar between us. I'm human and it's a dumb animal, nothing more._

But one that could talk. He huffed at himself in frustration and summoned some eco as he drew his arm from the water. Usually it came with ease, but now – his mood tempered with irritation – the green was thin and sparse.

" _Come on_ ," he muttered.

The ottsel perked his head and watched, little blue eyes bright with curiosity, but didn't say anything. Jak was able to seal most of his wounds and covered the rest in bandages. He was about to put the rest away when he noticed the ottsel was limping heavily. Guilt prickled at him. Had he hurt him when he'd cut him down from the trap?

"You… you okay there?"

The ottsel stiffened with surprise, "Yeah, just got a little banged up when the wolfadgers were swinging at me. I'll walk it off."

"You're _not_ gonna walk something like that off. Look, just… just come here."

"What?"

"Get over here before I change my mind."

The ottsel complied. Jak looked into the distance as he knelt and held out his hand, not wanting to make eye contact. He was just healing him because he felt bad, not trying to make a friend. Jak lifted him and ran eco over his front leg.

"Thanks. So… does this mean you're not still mad-"

"Now you're pushing it," Jak said as he let the ottsel down, "But you're welcome."

* * *

The ottsel proved harder to get rid of than Jak thought. They'd maintained a chilly distance all through the next few hours. He hadn't even squeaked a word as Jak ate, washed blood and dirt from his face and body, and packed his things, not even to ask for more food.

Yet, when it came time for Jak to return to the road, the ottsel followed. Jak didn't mind it for a while, thinking that perhaps they were simply using the same route; it _was_ the only path around. But when the ottsel never veered off to whatever nest he called home, and when Jade Forest became a green wall far behind them, Jak stopped, warm dust furling about his feet.

"What's the hold up, buddy?" the ottsel grabbed his leg and peeked around it, "More wolfadgers? They're not big fans of meadows, far as I know."

Jak pulled his leg away, "I'm sorry, but I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"'Bout what?"

"First off, I'm not your 'buddy'. Secondly, don't you have some hole to scurry off to? Or whatever ottsels live in? A home?"

The ottsel wiggled his nose at the word, thinking for a while, "Sort of."

"Then why are you following me?"

"Because I owe ya."

"Because you _owe_ me?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I swiped your jerky, you saved my life, healed my leg… normal stuff you pay people back for."

Jak rolled his eyes and continued walking. The ottsel scampered to catch up after a moment, giving Jak a puzzled look.

"That okay with you?"

Jak was silent for a while. Then, "Nope."

"What? Why the hell not?"

"Jerky."

"Look, I already told you: that was _one_ time. I almost never steal."

"Except from me."

"I was desperate!" the ottsel huffed, then brought his voice low, "And it didn't taste that good, anyways. Look, it's dangerous out here. You can't just travel alone."

Jak shrugged. "I've been fine so far."

"Yeah, but think about it this way," the ottsel started walking on two feet, using his front paws to gesture as he continued, "Picture this: you're adventuring on your merry way. Everything's been smooth sailing so far. You've bested beasties. You've scaled the most dangerous heights. You've spent the night with a few babes that just couldn't resist… uh, well, _whatever_ they like about you-"

"Precursors, I'm flattered already," Jak said, crossing his arms with exaggerated gusto.

"Life's going great, you think you're on top of the world. You go to bed, knowing you're gonna wake up and do all the beast and babe slaying one man could possibly handle in a day, but lo and behold! Something tries to sneak up on you while you're sleeping. You're so caught in some dream that your useless human ears don't pick up the sound of its growling. But my ottsel ears, on the other hand… they pick up things _real_ good."

"Could have fooled me."

The ottsel ignored his remark and continued, "So good, that I get your ass up in time and the two of us show those idiots not to mess with us. We kick their butts back to the Precursor age, we make a nice monster stew, and you live to see another day. Make sense?"

"Anything else?"

The ottsel's whiskers twitched, as if he were asking himself why Jak needed any other reason, "Well, I'm good at scrounging. Like so-"

He scrambled into the nearest brush. The bushes twitched as Jak continued down the road. A minute later, the orange creature leaped back out, landed right on Jak's shoulder, and held a bunch of berries before his face, "See?"

Jak pushed the ottsel's paw away with one finger and dumped him off his shoulder. "And?"

He got back up, dusted his arms, then flung them wide, "What else you want!?"

"What I want is for you to leave me alone."

"Why? Who likes being alone?"

Jak never answered. The ottsel never stopped following.

Here the land stretched wide and open with waving grasses and wildflowers. Far to the east, the sea Jak had seen that morning gnawed at soft dunes instead of cliff, but now it was too far for him to take a detour and enjoy it up close. Rocky plateaus dotted the north and westward distance; great rust-colored beetles with bushy backs, shuffling through the plains, rice paddies at their sides like wings of layered glass.

Who tended them, Jak wasn't sure, but it meant two things: there was a village nearby, and they were now in the Glass Meadows. As if to reward him for guessing correctly, he saw Precursor pipes rise from the earth in the distance, their eco crystal tubes glowing blue as they wound north, confirming his suspicion.

As they neared the first plateau, Jak could see figures toiling on the mosaic of paddies like little black insects roving through a great colony.

"Is that where we're headed?"

"No, _I'm_ headed a lot farther north. You can stop there, if you want. In fact, I wouldn't mind."

"Where up north?"

Jak closed his eyes in frustration, _Does this thing know what a hint is? And why is it still following me?_

He stared down at the ottsel, who padded along at his side like a faithful crocadog. Sure, they'd slept in the same ruin the night before. And yes, Jak had given him some food, saved him from wolfadgers, and healed his leg. But that didn't mean anything. He'd showed kindness to the people of Kunino, and where had _that_ gotten him?

Jak found himself suddenly aware of the cowl over his nose and mouth again, still stinking of ashes and smoke. He really should travel alone. Wolfadgers, he didn't mind if he killed. He wasn't fond of the ottsel, no, but he didn't know if he would ever forgive himself if he caused it to meet the same fate.

_Still, it'd be nice to have someone to talk to, for once,_ he thought, _His grating voice is better than deafening silence, even if only a little bit._

But like always, what Jak said and thought were quite different from what he felt. There were no words for what stirred in his unconscious then, only a memory. He recalled the way he'd emerged from the cave that morning, blinded by sun after so many days of shadow and rain. He'd felt the same the night before when his sight had met the ottsel's, blue and human like his own, peering across the fire from a darkness too familiar.

"Haven," Jak finally murmured.

"What?"

"Where I'm headed."

"Going to 'the city where the past and future collide', eh? Well, that's what they call it, at least. In my professional opinion, it's more where desperation and murderous bums and an asshole of a baron collide. And don't get me started on how the streets smell. I was licking that putrid reek outta my fur for weeks-"

"What!? You've been there?"

"Of course! Who hasn't?"

As they continued walking, an idea started forming in Jak's mind. He had a map and could always ask for directions if he ever got lost, but this ottsel had actually been to Haven before. It was the first time Jak realized just how intimidated he was by it, despite how many miles still separated them. He'd never navigated a city before. There were slavers, twisting streets like mazes, and if Samos hadn't been lying, more gangs than dirty alleys for them to hide in.

If this ottsel was telling the truth...

"What's it like?"

"Big. Smelly. Lots of cogs and pipes everywhere, with warm steam coming from 'em," the ottsel frowned, "And other… _certain_ things, too. When you're an ottsel, it's not too bad. When you're a human? You'd better watch out. Especially someone like you. Don't use your eco there, is all I'm saying."

"Yeah, I've been warned already. Anything else?"

"Oh, I could tell ya _lots_ of things. Like how the city's set up all vertical-like, stacked like bricks, with different districts on each level. The further up you go, the richer you are, and the Baron – he's like their king – has this _gigantic_ palace on top in the Greenring District. The smell's nice up there. Flowers, ocean breeze that comes up over the big walls surrounding the whole place… and don't even get me _started_ on the bridge leading into town. You ever seen gears as big as mountains before?"

The ottsel talked for what must have been hours as they crossed the Glass Meadows, the village and its paddies now a distant glitter behind them. As the ottsel spoke, Jak's scowl broke down and shifted through a wide range of expressions. Disgust. Amazement. Curiosity. Then came the stern look of someone who had made up his mind, though his brow still occasionally furrowed with worry.

"-and the best part is, is that I got the food for free! Turns out, when people figure out you're a talking ottsel, they scurry off like roaches and leave their plates just sitting there. Ahhh…." the ottsel paused, licking his lips, "I ate good _that_ night, and never better since. Never thought rice wine and roasted leaper would go together, but you'd be surprised-"

"Look, uh…"

"Oh, that's right! I never even introduced myself!" the ottsel scampered in front of him, stood on his tiptoes, and held up a paw, "The name's Daxter. I'd ask you yours, but I already overheard ya when you greeted the plant in that ruin. Shoulda been my first clue that you were different."

Jak stopped and crossed his arms, "Different?"

He expected another comment about the way he looked. The strange mishmash of his tan skin and blue eyes, or how his hair ran from red roots to blond ends. His fists began to tighten and his heart grew hard, preparing themselves for the verbal onslaught that was about to rip open scars that, no matter how much time passed, never seemed to fully heal.

The ottsel only shrugged, "How many times do I gotta say it? You're the first person that hasn't taken one look at me and freaked out. It's nice to be seen as human, is all."

Jak's eyes widened, then softened. He nodded, "I get it."

"Good! Now, get down here and shake my hand. My arm's gettin' sore!"

"Fine," Jak knelt and extended his own, then pulled it away quick, "But first, let me ask you something."

" _Ugh!_ " the ottsel started to hold up his arm with his other hand, "Yeah, get to the point!"

"I've never been to Haven before, and like you said, you owe me."

"Are you… are you going to let me come with ya!?"

The excitement in the ottsel's voice vacuumed away any hope Jak had of remaining stoic. A smile cracked the stone of Jak's face, but he buried it quick. He had to keep himself distant, if not stern.

"I… I find myself in need of a guide, and you need… well, _whatever_ you want from me."

When the ottsel didn't answer the indirect question, Jak tore down his cowl, rubbed his goatee in frustration, and continued, "Look, I'll give it to you straight: I don't need a friend. I need someone who can get me to and around Haven. But first, I've got some rules."

"Rules? What rules?"

"One, no more stealing. Two, we don't ask each other about our pasts. Three, you have to keep your mouth shut whenever we get near people, because I don't want to have to stand between you and a bunch of pitchforks. _Four_ …"

Jak didn't know how to say his last rule without revealing too much. He looked to the reddening sky in irritated thought, assembled the right words, then stared at Daxter so intensely that the ottsel took a step back.

"I have some… anger issues. A bad temper. If I tell you you're irritating me and you don't stop, or if you ever try to sneak up or surprise me, or if we're ever in mortal danger, said temper will come out. I can't control it. Does that make sense?"

When Daxter's eyes remained blank, Jak sighed, "Piss me off, and you might end up like those wolfadgers back there. If I start getting mad and I tell you to run, you run. Got it?"

"Is that why you don't wanna talk about your past? 'Cause if you've got some weird murderer issues where you go on killing sprees, I'm not sure if-"

"Rule number two?"

Daxter's whiskers drooped, "Yeah, but-"

" _Rule_."

The ottsel jerked his head back, "Uggghhhh, _fine_! Now shake on it before my arm breaks off. You're killin' me, here!"

Jak hesitated for a short moment before finally taking Daxter's hand in his own. However, it was so small compared to his that their attempt to shake was awkward. Jak instead offered his finger, which the ottsel - glad for something a little less crushing - excitedly shook.

"Sounds good?" Jak asked.

"We've got a deal, Jakan."

"Just Jak. And thanks, uh... Daxter."

The grin that lit up the ottsel's face could have outshone the sun. They turned and walked on, tall and short, human and ottsel, the real sun sinking like a great red eye into a lid of earth to their left.

To their right stretched their shadows; two matching dark outlines, both the same height.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Behold! This story LIVES! Yeah, I haven't updated in a few weeks, I know; my apologies for that. My life's been crazy hectic lately, what with my college semester wrapping up, my two jobs taking up a lot of free time, and my summer internship looming ahead. I'll try to update regularly again, but my schedule may be wonky until mid-May or so. Thanks to all who reviewed, followed, kudos'ed, and patiently waited in the meantime! Your words and encouragement really drove me on as I wrote this chapter out. You're all the best. :)
> 
> Another reason this chapter took so long to get out was that there were so many versions. Yup, I basically murdered and revived this chapter FOUR times. Rest in peace, other chapter fives. The first two versions followed Jak's experiences in Jadecrest, but they basically turned out to be boring filler. I thought, hey, I'm not gonna waste your guys' time, and Jak meeting Daxter has been a scene I've greatly anticipated since I first thought up this story.
> 
> It also was difficult because... when you have a character this moody in a darker story, how do you go about introducing a comic relief/lighthearted character without the tone doing a complete 180? Jak was especially hard to write in this chapter because of this. The rational part of him is like, "Stay away from people!", whereas his heart tells him, "But loneliness!". I mean, this guy literally went up and slaughtered a bunch of bandits last chapter and has been down about it for a week, and in this chapter he meets a funny talking ottsel. However, the original series did mix both the weird/funny with the serious/dark, so I think I still remained pretty faithful to the source material. It was also hard balancing Jak between secretly being a little happy that Daxter is tagging along and acting with an indifferent poker face to him on the outside. Yup... this took many revisions. So I hope you liked it, because that's what you got. ;3
> 
> It was also difficult because of some new elements I'm starting to introduce: parallels between Jak and Daxter, properly characterizing both, even more foreshadowing, etc... Though this chapter was a lot more mundane compared to the last, there still are some elements that will pique the careful reader's interest. Especially the question of why Daxter was following Jak in the first place, and why he was so insistent on tagging along. This is a question that may not even be answered in this book, though little truths about it will peek out here and there. Pay attention to those, is all I'm saying!
> 
> Thanks for reading! And as always, feel free to leave critique!


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